Hidden
by Fallen Warrior Angel
Summary: Guerrero's had someone in his life for a while, and a sudden change of events brings everything to surface.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is a fanfic I created when I saw the _Human Target_ episode, 'Baptiste'. I know Guerrero's kid has been pecieved as younger, but I'm throwing my own little twist on it. I do not own the rights to _Human Target_, but I do own my created characters. Enjoy!**

Guerrero sat on Chance's couch, last night's events whirring through his brain at warp speed: he'd known. He'd known about _her_, how was that possible? He'd kept her hidden from them for all these years and now, now they knew. The only person that the short-statured man had told was Chance, and he knew that his friend would never betray information like that to the Old Man or Baptiste. He sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, he didn't know what he was going to do.

"Guerrero."

He sighed, "Hey dude."

Chance sat down across from him, a container of Chinese food in his hand, "Everything alright?"

"No," his piercing blue eyes closed in frustration, "...remember when I called Baptiste?"

"Yeeah, what about it?" Chance questioned, not eating the Chinese himself but rather feeding it to Carmine, who sat beside him and panted happily.

Guerrero rolled his eyes, that's all the dog ever ate and he wondered how it couldn't have had a stroke by now, "He said somethin' to me last night. Somethin' that's got me worried."

Chance's eyebrows shot up, "That's a new one."

The shorter man was not finding his comrade's sarcasm amusing, "They know about her, dude. I don't know how...but they do."

"Oh...that's a problem."

"Tell me about it," he sighed, slumping back against the couch, "I want to go get her, but she hasn't seen me in so long I just...I feel she's not exactly happy with me, ya know?"

For a moment the statuesque man fell silent, looking at his old friend kindly, "You're her family, she's not going to stay mad at you forever."

"Who's whose family?" Winston walked into the room, folding his arms across his chest.

Guerrero sighed, getting up, "No one important, dude. Don't worry yourself too much."

"Stop right there," the larger man demanded, "now I'm tired of you leaving me out of the loop. You're gonna tell me what's going on right now, or I'll beat it out of you so help me God."

"Dude," Guerrero arched his eyebrow in amusement, "seriously?"

Winston glared at him, "Yeah. Seriously."

Chance stood, "Someone very close to Guerrero may be in danger. He's going to get her right now," he gave Guerrero a look, which the other man returned with a nod.

"Who's _her_?" Winston questioned further.

Guerrero sighed, "Why do you ask so many questions, man?"

"Because it's my job, wise-ass! Now tell me who she is!"

"She's my daughter, dude, OK?" the small man snapped, looking at Winston with an annoyed expression, "She's my daughter."

Chance sighed, "I'll go with ya, buddy, c'mon," he threw on his leather jacket and picked up his car keys from the small table beside the couch.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Your daughter? You're telling me you have a daughter?" Winston gaped in shock.

"Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?" Guerrero looked at him.

"I don't believe it that's the point!"

Guerrero nodded, his dusty blonde hair moving ever-so slightly, "OK dude, you'll see," he turned on his heel, following Chance to the elevator.

Winston sighed as he watched the two of them leave, "I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

"Dude let's just go."

"Wait."

"She's not gonna wanna talk to me ya know that, right?"

"She will. Trust me."

"Chance, dude."

"Guerrero she's your daughter no matter how you put it so she'll hear you out, I promise."

_Right, and after having no contact with her in almost two years she'll wanna talk to me_, Guerrero thought sarcastically as they waited outside of the college building. The most recent period had just ended so the swarm of students were filing out the door. There was only one that he recognized: long, dusty blonde hair, light skin, not the tallest of the mob.

Chance smirked at his friend, "Go on."

Now, Guerrero was never the kind of person to be nervous about anything; but for the first time in a long time, he was. Slowly, he walked to the black Chevy Tahoe that his daughter was walking towards, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Hey Steph."

The girl stopped, turning to face him, "What are you doing here?"

He sighed, "A man can't come see his daughter?"

She stared at him, and Guerrero noticed she had his piercing blue eyes, _I always thought she had her mom's green color. Odd._ "Why would you want to come see me after two years?"

Guerrero took a few more steps forward, "Stephanie...I know I haven't been around lately but just hear me out, OK? Please?"

Stephanie nodded, "OK."

He seemed surprised for a moment, but he nodded, shifting his weight, "I need you to come with Chance and I...you're not safe."

She scoffed, "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Chance walked over to them, "Hey Stephanie."

"Chance," she smirked, "haven't changed a bit."

He shrugged, "Well the last time you saw me you were, what? Sixteen? How old are you now?"

"Twenty-two," she stated, her eyes flashing back to Guerrero, "you were saying?"

"There's this guy that used to work with us, Baptiste. No one in that organization knew about you except Chance, and last night, Baptiste made it quite clear that he knew about you."

"And you want me to come and stay with you until you can figure out what they're planning is that it?" Stephanie interjected.

He nodded, "Yeah, you can crash with Chance."

Stephanie rolled her eyes, "Of course. You make this whole facade like you wanna protect me then when it comes down to it you're just gonna throw me onto the mercy of someone else. You're so typical. Have you ever given a single thought to the fact that I'm your daughter? And that you should have actual feelings for me instead of treating me like I'm some sort of chore?"

Guerrero remained silent, he deserved to hear everything she was saying, because the truth of it was that she was right: he had been treating her like she wasn't important, and he hated himself for it. She was all he had left, and he didn't want to lose her. She was smart, very smart, and he knew he wasn't going to get anything past her. _Takes after me more than I thought_. "I was going to stay there with you."

She didn't say anything for quite some time, merely standing there, her eyes shifting between Chance and her father. Finally, she ran her fingers through her hair, "Alright, I'll go with you. You could use some more connections anyway."

Chance chuckled, "Well we could use someone with forensic knowledge, plus you could teach Winston a thing or two."

"Who?" the young woman's expression went blank with confusion.

Guerrero shrugged, "Annoying guy who worries too much."

Stephanie nodded, "Ah. I see. Guessing you two don't get along too well."

"No they don't," Chance chuckled, "you can follow in your truck if you want."

"OK," she turned back to her truck, fishing the keys out of her bag.

Guerrero stood there for a moment before deciding what to do. He slowly walked forward, "Steph."

She turned to look at him, "Yeah?"

"Just because I haven't been around, doesn't mean I don't still love you. I wanna keep you safe...you're all I've got left," Guerrero looked at her, sincerity in his eyes.

Stephanie sighed, "I know, dad. I've just been wanting to talk to you, and every time I've wanted to I've had to remember that there's no way I can get in contact with you."

"I never gave you my cell number?"

"You never answered."

Guerrero sighed, he must've thought she was Winston calling, "I'm sorry."

She nodded, "What's done is done. All I care about now is that you're back."

He chuckled, "Well don't get too mushy on me now, we'll talk more back at Chance's place."

"Alright," she watched as he turned to walk away, "dad?"

"Yup?" he looked over his shoulder.

She smirked, "I love you, too."

Guerrero chuckled, the corners of his lips curling upward as he continued walking back to Chance's car. _Well that went better than I thought_.

**AN: Please let me know what you think! Reviews are wonderful!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: OK here's chapter two! I know the last chapter was a little short and a bit undetailed but that's the _Human Target_ way: everything will be explained as it goes on. I do not own the rights to _Human Target_, but I do own the rights to my characters. Enjoy!**

Winston sat in his office staring mindlessly at his computer: how could he not know that Guerrero had a kid? He knew everything else about that low-life, amoral wise-ass...well everything except his first name, and yet he didn't know that he had a kid? This was bothering him a lot more than it should. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "What the hell is goin' on here?" his ears picked up a low, steady thumping, which caused him to look down, only finding Carmine sitting next to him, panting happily. "Yeah and what do you want?"

The dog merely continued to stare at him, panting and thumping his tail against the floor. Winston shook his head, that dog really needed to get outside more. Maybe with Guerrero's daughter around Carmine would at least get a walk or two, that was if she wasn't anything like Guerrero. He heard the elevator's telltale ding, and with another sigh, stood and walked into the living room. Chance exited first, then Guerrero, and lastly a young woman, the same height as Guerrero, straight, dusty blonde hair that fell just below her shoulder blades, the same icy blue eyes as Guerrero, same skin tone as Guerrero. _Great_, Winston thought, _a mini-Guerrero_, he sighed, he really needed to stop saying the guy's name so much.

Guerrero sighed, "Dude this is my daughter, Stephanie. Stephanie, Winston."

Stephanie nodded, "Hey dude."

Winston was about to open his mouth and greet her, but that 'dude' caught him off guard, "Hm, so you _are _his daughter."

The young woman smirked, "Unfortunately."

"I heard that," Guerrero spoke from the kitchen where he was, as ususal, raiding the fridge.

"Keep your hands off my lunch," the taller man snapped.

Stephanie chuckled, "So where am I crashing?"

Chance looked up the stairs, "First door on your right."

"Thanks," she walked up the stairs slowly, her eyes examining every little detail: the place was neat, almost too neat save for Chance's room. When she found the room, she was surprised to find it was seemingly normal. The twin bed was on one side, a desk on the other, the window in front of her, a closet next to her. _Just like my dorm room_, she mused, tossing her backpack onto the bed before opening it and taking out her laptop, which she instinctively put on the desk.

"Hey."

Stephanie turned to see her father standing in the doorway, a Tupperware container in his hand, "Hey."

Guerrero leaned against the door frame, "Everything OK?"

She nodded, "Yeah, just getting settled," her eyes fell on the food he was eating, the name _Winston_ was written on the front, "you really like to mess with him."

The man chuckled, taking another bite of the leftover penne in vodka sauce, "Whatever's in the fridge is fair game, dude."

"You know better than to mess with my stuff," she deadpanned.

He looked up at her from behind his glasses, "You're my daughter, doesn't count."

She chuckled, "Oh yes it does."

"No."

"Uh, yeah."

"Nope."

"Yes."

"Not even close, hun," he smirked, "when you finish come downstairs, Winston wants an explanation."

Stephanie sighed, rolling her eyes, "Fine," she smiled, _he won't touch anything I leave in that fridge_.

* * *

"OK, so what I wanna know is where the hell she came from," Winston stated, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

Stephanie chuckled, leaning against the arm of the couch, "Dude, what are you twelve?"

Winston looked at her with a stern expression, "OK Miss-"

"Guerrero. Stephanie Annabelle Guerrero. Twenty-two years of age born October 25th, 1988 in New York City, New York," she stated, "straight A's in grade school, graduated top of my class in high school, and I now attend The University of San Francisco majoring in forensic science and minoring in criminal justice."

Winston was about to ask her a question, but she already had the answer, "My mother died when I was thirteen, I was raised by my mother's sister. I have a rare disease called Acromegaly which is a growth hormone in my blood that produces cancer tumors, side effects range from excessive migraines to unconsciousness," she nodded her head toward the kitchen, "the large, white box in the refrigerator drawer, bottom left, is my insulin which must remain refrigerated at all times. Any questions?"

Chance raised his hand slightly, "Why don't you explain to Winston the situation?"

Guerrero walked in from the kitchen, two cups of coffee in hand, "Here, kiddo," he handed one to his daughter, who accepted greatfully. For a moment no one spoke, the small man merely stirred his coffe and took a sip before continuing, "Stephanie's mom died of the disease she has, all the while I had the organization breathing down my neck. To keep them from doing anything fishy I kept Stephanie a secret, hiding her with her aunt. Now they know about her, how I don't know, but when Baptiste made it clear that he knew...I couldn't risk them getting to her. So she's staying here until we figure this out."

Winston held up his hand, "Now just hold up here a minute. Who else in the organization knew about Stephanie and her mother?"

"Just me," Chance stated, "I used to visit Annabelle and Stephanie all the time when Guerrero was out on a job, let them know he was safe. When Annabelle got a tumor the doctors couldn't cure I was the only one Guerrero told."

Stephanie sighed, "This is just as confusing to me as it is to you, but I'm not leaving until I get answers or until this problem is solved."

"We wouldn't let you leave before then," Guerrero explained.

Winston sighed, "OK fine, let's start digging and see what we can find, for now just lie low, go to school and come straight here afterward. Got it?"

She arched her eyebrow, "Dude, I'm twenty-two not ten."

"This is gonna be rough," he mumbled as he walked out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.

Stephanie sighed, "Well I've got work to do for school, I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Chance nodded, "Let me know if you need help."

She looked at him over her shoulder with a smile, "I should be fine."

Guerrero watched the two of them silently; sure Stephanie was an adult, but she was still his daughter, and he was very protective of her despite recent events, "Dude."

Chance looked at his friend, "What?"

"You're hittin' on my daughter, man. Not cool."

"Just being friendly, you know I treat her like a niece. You're my pal, I wouldn't do something like that," Chance smirked, patting Guerrero on the shoulder before heading into his room.

_Right, just what I need_, Guerrero took off his glasses, rubbing his hand over his eyes: he really needed to get some sleep. Slowly he trudged upstairs, knocking on his daughter's door.

"_Yeah?_"

He turned the knob and opened the door, seeing her back turned to him as she sat at her laptop, typing away, "Mind if I come in?"

Stephanie turned, she had a smile on her face but he could see the dark circles under her eyes, "Sure."

Guerrero stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, "How long's it been since you slept?"

She sighed, "I don't know to be honest with you."

"Maybe you should take a nap," he stated, taking off his glasses and putting them on the desk, his hand resting on her shoulder.

Stephanie slumped back against the chair, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I have to finish this."

He smirked, "Lemme guess, school work?"

She nodded, "I haven't gotten a moment's peace since I started this advanced course."

"C'mon, you're done for the day," he shut her laptop, "get some rest."

Stephanie looked at him, "Speak for yourself. When's the last time you slept?"

"That's not important," Guerrero shrugged, "lie down and get some sleep."

She stood firm, "Not unless you do."

He sighed, his lips forming a thin line beneath is mustache, "You really are stubborn, kid."

"I learned from the best," she threw back, smirking victoriously, "now I know it's such a long walk to your room across the hall," she teased, "so you can stay here if you want."

Guerrero's eyebrow arched in confusion, "And where will you sleep?"

She shrugged, "Not the first time I've shared a bed with my dad."

He sighed, "You're twenty-two not two."

"I know," she sat down on the bed and swung her legs up, her head finding one of the pillows.

For a moment Guerrero thought he was looking at his daughter when she was much younger, that same smile on her face, "Alright, fine," he took off his boots and climbed onto the bed beside her, propping his hands beneath his head. He was surprised to feel her rest her own head against his chest, but as he looked down at her he realized that no matter how old she was, she was still his girl. _Maybe this won't be too bad after all, _he thought before finally closing his eyes and dozing off.

**AN: Reviews are wonderful!**


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours past and Guerrero woke to find Stephanie gone, his glasses on the dresser and her laptop missing. He stood, stretching his arms over his head, where the hell was she?

"Steph?" he called, picking up his glasses and putting them on; no one answered him so he just went downstairs, heading straight to the fridge. _Hm, odd, no more leftovers?_ There was a sound coming from the living room that caught his attention, a sound he quickly discovered to be Stephanie sitting on the couch with her laptop, Carmine at her feet. Guerrero crossed his arms, "How long have you been awake?"

Stephanie didn't look up from her computer screen, "About an hour, why?"

"You threw the leftovers out, didn't you?"

She pointed to a bag on the counter that he hadn't noticed, "I went and bought fresh, you oughta restock your leftovers after a few days."

He stared at her, "You need a ride to school?"

"Nope."

"Everything OK?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Liar."

Stephanie finally looked up at him when he called her a liar, "I'm fine."

The short man walked around and sat on the couch beside her, taking her laptop to see the computer screen: there was an e-mail from an unknown address, something that made his blood run cold.

_Hello there, Stephanie. How's your old man?_

Old man, only Baptiste would talk like that, Guerrero was getting very worried, "When did you get this?"

"It was here when I got back from the Chinese place," she stated, "dad what's going on?"

Guerrero ran over to the phone, tossing it to her, "Call out sick from class today you're staying here."

Stephanie's eyes went wide, "What? No."

"Stephanie don't argue with me just do as I say. Call your school and tell them that you're sick and you can't make your classes."

"No, dad I'm going to class!"

He turned to her, pointing at the screen, "Ya see that? That means he knows you're with me and he knows who you are even more than he did before. If you leave this apartment he'll nab you, and I am not gonna let that happen. Where are Chance and Winston?"

Stephanie sighed, "They went to talk to some guy, Eddie Dunn?"

Guerrero pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, quickly dialing Chance's number.

"_Guerrero, fiinally awake_?"

"Dude we've got a big problem."

"_What's that_?"

"Baptiste knows she's with us, man. He sent her an e-mail."

"_Can you trace the address_?"

Guerrero turned to check the laptop, but she was already on it, her fingers tapping away, "I uh, I think she's workin' on that."

Stephanie smirked for only a second: if she was going to stay home from school then she needed to keep herself busy somehow, why not trying to find the guy that apparently wants her dead? "The e-mail is from an unregistered IP address, which means that he's bouncing me all over Cyberspace. I can try to lock onto a set signal but it's gonna take a while."

Her father nodded, "Keep working on it."

"_Guerrero, Winston and I are on our way back with Eddie, alright_?"

"Yeah dude, see ya," he hung up, plopping down on the couch once more to watch what she was doing, "are you sure that's going to work?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes, "It's what I go to school for, dad. I know what I'm doing."

He arched his eyebrow, "You go to school to search through Cyberspace?"

"I go to school to learn how to scientifically catch criminals. Don't be a wise-ass," she stated, the soft beep from her computer causing her to smile, "got an IP."

"Ya did?" he looked at the screen, seeing the line of numbers and letters in front of him, "Nice goin'."

Stephanie smiled, "Thanks, dad, now I've just gotta track this back to the original e-mail address," she typed in a few more codes and there it was before them, "gotcha."

Guerrero turned the computer to look at the screen, "That can't be right."

"What?" she asked, "What do you mean?"

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth, "That's impossible."

"What is it?"

Guerrero didn't answer her: Baptiste was using his old e-mail that he had when he used to work for the Old Man, but why?

"Dad? Dad? Hello?" Stephanie snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, "Dude."

He finally looked at her, "Hm?"

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever, look if I'm staying here and not going to school then I get to help you with the next case. Deal?"

Guerrero shook his head, "Too risky. Too dangerous."

"Then I'm going to school, see you at two thirty," she took her laptop and stood, feeling his hand grab her wrist quite firmly as she began to walk away.

"No."

Stephanie looked at the small hand gripping her wrist, "Let go of me."

Guerrero stood, still keeping a firm hold on her, "You're not going anywhere it's too dangerous."

She'd had enough, finally getting in his face, "Look, either I get to help you or you let me go to school. Either way it's dangerous but I can fend for myself and I can handle risks. So make your choice or I'll make it for you. Got it?"

He huffed, staring at her intently: she was the only thing he had left to live for, and he wasn't about to lose her. But having her stay here and help out was better than her going out and getting kidnapped. Guerrero shut his eyes, he didn't even want to think about it, "Alright. You can help."

Stephanie nodded, "OK," she tried to pull her wrist away but he still held it tight, "dad."

"I want you to promise me you'll be careful with everything you do. And I mean everything," he deadpanned, his piercing eyes reflected her own.

"Dad," she sighed, finally twisting her wrist out of his hand, placing her own hand on his cheek, "you always say how you don't want to lose me? Well I don't want to lose you either. I'll be careful."

Guerrero was never really sentimental, when he was it was usually only around his daughter and wife, so when he gave his daughter a hug, he wasn't paying attention to the fact that Winston and Chance were walking in with their new client.

"Ehem."

Stephanie turned around, her cheeks turning red when she saw the smirk that Chance was giving her, "Are we interrupting something?"

Guerrero still kept an arm around his daughter's waist, "What? I can't hug my own kid?"

Winston's eyes were wide, but he said nothing, "C'mon Eddie, I'll explain the situation to you."

The boxer nodded, his eyes fixated on Stephanie, who merely smiled.

"You want coffee?" the short-statured man questioned, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

Stephanie looked at him, "I'll make it."

Guerrero shook his head, "No I got it," he turned and walked into the kitchen silently.

The young woman watched as her father seemingly disappeared.

"He does that when he's thinking," Chance stepped up beside her, "don't worry about him."

She smirked, her eyes locking on the taller man beside her, "I know. I'm the same way."

He smiled, "You're a lot like your dad, you know."

"I know," Stephanie turned to him, "that's why his odd tendencies don't bother me," she went to walk away, but she felt a soft, strong hand take hold of her own.

Chance felt her skin beneath his; soft and calloused, "You have a huge wall up, Stephanie. You let very few people in."

Her eyes locked with his, piercing right through him, _Just like Guerrero's_, he thought, "It's what I'm used to."

He nodded, "Let me in...please."

Stephanie was at a loss of words, "Chance I-I can't do that..."

"You can," he pleaded, taking a step closer to her, feeling her nervous breath against his face, "I want to help you."

She sighed, feeling the heat radiating off of his body, "Chance please-"

"Hey, dude."

The two of them turned sharply to see Guerrero standing there once more, two mugs of coffee in his hands. Stephanie strode over quickly, taking one of them from her father, avoiding the gaze he was giving her as she rushed back upstairs.

Chance sighed, "It's not what you think."

"It isn't," Guerrero snapped, his gaze cold, "I told you: she's my daughter. She's all I have left, man. I don't need her getting hurt because you've got a crush on her. Keep your distance, that's all I ask," he sighed, walking up the stairs.

Stephanie was sitting on her bed, coffee untouched beside her on the nightstand. She saw her father walking down the hall, "Dad."

Guerrero stopped, sticking his head in the doorway, "Hm."

She sighed, "Don't be mad, please. Nothing happened."

Her father remained silent, nodding his head before disappearing down the hallway.

_Why is he so stubborn?_ she growled inwardly, collapsing back into bed and shutting her eyes, hoping that sleep would clear her mind. Of course, sleep never comes to those who ask for it.

**AN: OK I'm really searching for some opinions. Reviews would be wonderful! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: OK sorry I took so long. Here's chapter 4! I know some of the stuff I've been doing hasn't been really true to Guerrero but I promise I'll try and make up for it. This chapter is based through "Corner Man" so bear with me.**

"Dad you want coffee?"

"No."

Stephanie poked her head into the back of the van to see her father engrossed on the computer, "Since when?"

Guerrero didn't answer her, merely continuing his work.

She sighed, rolling her eyes, "Whatever, you need me I'll be out here."

"Sit down," he stated, kicking out one of the stools next to him.

The young woman stared at him for a moment, "You sure? Because I think your ego won't be able to handle it."

His mustache twitched slightly, a small smirk crossing his lips, "Sit down, kid."

Eddie walked up to the van, smirking at Stephanie, "Hey."

She nodded, "Hey," she took two of the three coffees she'd bought and handed the tray to Eddie, "here," she climbed into the van, placing one down in front of the man sitting beside her, "You'll want it."

He glanced at the coffee, then at hers: both had a light-colored hue to them, "Cream, two sugars?"

Stephanie looked at him over the rim of her cup, "Mmhmm," she put it down, "why, isn't that how you usually drink it?"

"Yeah, but I thought you drank yours black?"

"No, that's how you give it to me because you don't know how I take it. I make mine with cream and two sugars, same as you."

Guerrero arched his eyebrow, "Are you at all like your mom?"

Stephanie smirked, "Yeah, she always knew how to keep you in line, dude," she placed her hand on his shoulder, "and so do I."

"So," Eddie plopped down on the stool on Guerrero's opposite side, "what are we doing?"

The short-statured man looked at the boxer, "Saving your ass," he handed the younger man a set of headphones, "put these on."

Stephanie turned to her laptop, uplinking Chance's and Winston's microphones to the computer so they could hear everything that was going on, "We're online," she placed her own headphones over her ears.

_"You're worried because we're going to see somebody who's not exactly my biggest fan. You're second guessing."_

"_Not exactly you're biggest fan. __The man told you if he ever saw you again he'd shoot you in the kneecaps, stuff you in a steamer trunk, and sink it to the bottom of the bay_."

"_See that's what I'm talking about. You're nervous._"

"_I'm not nervous I'm simply stating a fact: the man's a psychopath, he wants to kill you, and you just wanna...just waltz right into his living room. But see, I've been around you long enough to know that for you, that's pretty much par for the course._"

"_Still you come along? You're like a mystery, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in...cashmere_."

The young woman couldn't help but smirk at Chance's remark, suddenly feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and read the caller ID: Scott. Her eye quickly averted to her father, tapping him on the shoulder to let him know she'd be right back before she got up and jumped out of the van, "Scott?"

"_Stephanie, where are you? Professor said you called out sick today. Everything alright?_" a young man's voice questioned.

She sighed, "Yeah, yeah I'll be alright. I'm probably going to be out for a few days, though."

"_Why?_"

"Because I'm sick, Scott. I've got the stomach flu," she lied.

"_I've known you long enough to know when you're lying. What are you really up to?_"

Stephanie huffed, "Why does it matter? Why do you care?"

"_What? I'm not allowed to worry about my girlfriend?_"

She smirked, "No, now get back to class."

He sighed, "_Fine. I'll call you later. I love you_."

"I love you, too," she hung up and climbed back into the van, picking up the headphones and putting them back on as she sat.

"_And on that note...take it away_."

"_I need...1.8 million dollars in the next week...in cash._"

"_Get the steamer trunk and my .45 and bring them up here_," Stephanie guessed that had to be Bevilacqua.

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, just a loan, you'll get everything back and in the process, you'll get to stick it to the _one_ guy in the world you hate worse than me: Hugh Prentice_."

"_Hugh Prentice?_"

Suddenly she heard the sound of something heavy dragging along the floor, and a gun cock, "_Which one_?" Stephanie rolled her eyes: money-men were always so dramatic.

"_Hang on a second. Keep talking_."

"_I've got a client. He's a prize fighter, his name's Eddie Dunn. Prentice told him to take a dive, Eddie wouldn't do it, and Prentice lost a fortune: 1.8 million to be exact_."

"_Your client doesn't sound too smart_."

"_I-I'll be honest with you, he's not the brightest bulb in the box_."

"Is he sayin' I'm dumb?" Eddie questioned, causing Stephanie to gaze over at him.

Guerrero didn't take his eyes from the screen, "'Course not."

Eddie looked at him, "I'm not dumb."

The smaller man glanced at the fighter before turning back to the laptop, "Your headphones are on backwards_."_

Stephanie scoffed and turned back to her own laptop as Eddie fixed his headphones.

"_But Eddie's a good kid, Prentice wouldn't even give him a chance to make it square; just sent guys with guns to his house. Eddie fought his way out, but he's been on the run ever since._"

"_What exactly do you think you're going to do about that?_"

"_Prentice has got deep pockets, he'll find a way to get to Eddie sooner or later, but I've got a plan to make sure Prentice won't be able to get to my client or anyone ever again_."

"_I'm still listening_."

"_The Christophe Fight tournament in Brussels: eight fighters, best in the world. Famous for the sums of money wagered in its betting rooms, fortunes won and lost in a night. I'm gonna get Prentice to make the wrong bet on the wrong fighter...and he's gonna get wiped out._"

"_You're gonna get Hugh Prentice, the shrewdest gambler alive, to bet everything he owns against you, and lose?_"

"_Everything he owns. Every last dime._"

"_And may I ask who this fighter is?_"

"_Me_."

Stephanie took off her headphones, watching her father type a few things into his laptop, "Prepping to wire the money into Chance's account?"

Guerrero nodded, "Yup," he tossed her the keys to the van, "wanna drive?"

She smirked, "Cool."

"Pull around to the docks and pick up Chance and Winston."

Stephanie sighed, starting the van and driving around the block, just in time to see Chance and Winston walking up to the curb. She pulled the van to a stop, "Get in."

Chance got into the passenger's seat, "I thought Guerrero was driving?"

She smirked, "Nope."

Winston sighed, "Nothing stupid!"

The young woman chuckled, "OK, dude."

* * *

Stephanie walked down the stairs to find Winston, Eddie, and her father gathered around one of the many tables in the tech room, poring over tons of papers.

"What's all this?" Eddie asked, his eyes catching a glimpse of Stephanie and he smiled.

She nodded, walking around behind her father and picking up one of the papers: a profile.

"This is step two of four: counterintelligence," Winston explained.

Stephanie looked at him, "Like step one was paying off Kendrick Taylor to get his ass kicked by Chance?"

Winston looked at her, obviously not amused, "Yeah. Just like that."

Eddie nnodded, "Oh yeah...I don't know what that means."

Guerrero scoffed, "Spying, genius."

"Look, we have to get Chance to the finals. It's the only time Prentice can bet everything. Now, getting Chance there means we have to learn everything we can about his opponents," Winston stated.

"Things they don't want us to know," Guerrero explained, trying to get Eddie to understand, "weaknesses; chinks in their armor, that sort of thing."

Winston turned to the boxer, "Now you're going to have to help us out with that Eddie. Think you can do it?"

Eddie sighed, "You really think Chance can win this thing?"

"There's no one I'd rather have in my corner," Winston reassured.

Stephanie looked behind her to see chance walking in, "What's up?"

He smirked, "I just got a call; pack a bag, we're going to Brussels."

Winston nodded, "Great. I'll go with you."

Chance turned to Stephanie, "You too."

Guerrero looked at him, "Why would she go?"

"It's more inconspicuous for an underdog fighter to have arm candy," the taller man explained.

Stephanie shrugged, "OK."

"No," her father firmly snapped.

She cast him a glance over her shoulder, "If I'm going to help, does it really matter if it's here or Brussels?"

Guerrero nodded, "Yes. Here is safer."

The young woman walked over to him, "Here is more dangerous. Baptiste is not going to follow me all the way to Brussels just to kidnap me or whatever the hell he wants to do."

"Never say never," he deadpanned, his piercing eyes staring at her intently, "I don't want you going."

"I'm twenty-two, you can't control every single aspect of my life anymore, dad. I'm going," she snapped.

Chance looked at Guerrero, "If I'd known it would turn out like that I never would've suggested it, man."

"Dude, just drop it alright?" the shorter man interjected, still quite upset with Chance about his close proximity with Stephanie the other day, "Just keep her out of trouble."

"I promise you, nothing will happen to her."

Guerrero sighed, walking out of the room and upstairs, catching a glimpse of his daughter packing a suitcase, "Do you need anything?"

Stephanie turned to look at him, "Nope, I'm good," she went back to searching through her closet.

He pursed his lips in a thin line, he hated when she was like this. This is how she'd been with him the last time they spoke two years ago: distant, like she was a stranger to him.

"Steph."

She didn't look at him.

"Stephanie."

Still nothing. Guerrero finally walked into the room, shutting her suitcase, which forced her to look at him, "Move."

"Not until you talk to me," he stated.

"There's nothing to talk about," she threw back.

"Yes there is," he countered, taking the dress from her and tossing it onto the bed, "you are all that's left in my life. You grew up, practically considering me a stranger. I don't want that rift anymore, and I know you don't either. The last thing I want is for you to hate me, for whatever reason. I just want to keep you safe."

Stephanie sighed, tears glazing her eyes, "I just don't want to be a prisoner anymore. I'm tired, of going from one place to another every day without having any form of life. When you showed up the other day, I thought that maybe, just maybe you'd shown up with a decision. Instead you're doing this as you go along. I want certainty, dad...I want a little normality."

Guerrero watched the tears roll down her cheeks as they overflowed, that was when he saw her mother: she rarely blinked when she cried out of anger and distress, and Stephanie did the same thing. He sighed, taking her hands in his, "I'm not the world's greatest dad, I know that, but I want you to listen when I say to you that I want you to be happy. We're not normal, and nothing is ever for certain. I screwed up big time leaving you and your mom in the shadows, and it's something I'm going to regret for the rest of my life. But I will spend every day making it up to you, because you _are_ my life." He wiped the tears away from her cheeks, "Look at me."

She sighed, looking at him and seeing the sincerity in his eyes, "You did screw up...and you are far from normal."

He chuckled, "You're my daughter, kid. You're the same way. C'mere," he wrapped his arms around her, petting her hair to soothe her, "Just be careful over there. Promise me."

Stephanie nodded, burying her face in his shoulder, "Promise."

* * *

Chance looked at the young woman sitting next to him on the plane, she was staring out the window, her mind obviously on something other than the task at hand. "Hey."

Stephanie looked at him absentmindedly, seeing the gaze he was giving her, "What?"

"You OK?"

She nodded, "Fine."

He tried to hold her hand, but she pulled it away, "Chance, stop. My dad's furious enough with you as it is."

Chance chuckled, "And I thought you didn't want him controlling every aspect of your life?"

"I don't but I also don't want the two of you fighting because of some infatuation you have," she stated.

"Why won't you at least give it a chance?" he questioned.

Stephanie sighed, "Give what a chance, Chance? A one-night stand? Because that's all we're gonna get out of it if my dad finds out."

Chance took her hand, "Stop, just stop. Let's go to Brussels, get this done, and we'll talk about it later. OK?"

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever."

He sighed, _Why the Hell does she have to be _so_ much like Guerrero?_

**AN: Reviews are wonderful!**


	5. Chapter 5

Guerrero had never been so nervous in his life. Sure, there had been the occasional nerve on a job, but nerves this extreme? No. Stephanie had said before she left that when they landed she would call him, it had been almost two hours since the scheduled landing time and still no call.

Eddie watched the smaller man pace the living room, "Hey man, you OK?"

"Fine, dude," he sighed, waiting for his phone to go off.

"Ya know, they're probably just getting settled at the hotel."

_For two hours? Not likely_, Guerrero took off his glasses and rubbed his hand over his face: where the hell was she? Finally, he felt his phone vibrate, "Hello?"

"_Dad! Sorry I didn't call you earlier!_"

The short man bit his tongue to keep from yelling at her, "It's fine, kid. Did you get there OK?"

"_Yeah fine, listen. Chance's fight is in a few hours, Winston wants to talk to you via webcam_."

Guerrero walked into the tech room, opening his laptop and signing on, "OK. Whenever you're ready, Steph."

The screen went black for a moment, then her face appeared, "_Hey stranger_."

He smirked, "You've got a nice little case of jet lag."

She rolled her eyes, "_I gotta go get ready, here's Winston_," she got up and walked away, Winston sitting down in the chair.

* * *

Stephanie couldn't hear the conversation going on between Winston and her dad, but she was too busy trying to figure out what to wear. What did a fighter's arm candy wear?

"You need some help?" Chance mused from the doorway.

She looked at him over her shoulder, "I'm good, thanks."

He walked in, "Ya know, I'd really like some inclination as to why you keep brushing me off."

The young woman sighed, closing her eyes, _Because Chance I'm seeing someone, already. Yeah OK, I can tell him that just like I told dad...right._ She scoffed inwardly, "Chance I just...it's not the best situation for me right now, OK?"

Chance nodded, "At least give it a thought."

Stephanie shook her head, "You're hopeless."

He smirked, "I try."

His persona was calm, something that Stephanie found annoying yet unavoidable, "I'll give it a thought."

"Good...oh and the blue dress," he pointed to her suitcase before leaving the room.

She chuckled, taking out the blue dress and shutting her bedroom door to get dressed, wondering how out of all the people in the world, Christopher Chance, her dad's best friend, had to have a crush on her.

* * *

"Dude, where's Steph?" Guerrero asked Winston for the tenth time, looking at his watch yet again.

Winston sighed, "_She's still getting dressed! I don't know how many times I have to tell you that._"

"Whoa," Eddie's eyes went wide when he saw the image on the screen, "I uh, I think she's done."

The smaller man turned to him, "What are you talkin' about, man?"

The fighter said nothing, but merely pointed to the laptop screen. Guerrero turned back around, only to do a double-take: a young woman was walking behind Winston in a navy blue dress that hugged tightly to her figure. It was held closed by a collar around her neck and was completely backless, allowing Guerrero to see her tanned skin. Her hair fell flawlessly over her shoulders, wavy and not a hair out of place. "Winston, let me talk to Stephanie."

He sighed, turning to the young woman behind him, "Your dad's online, wants to talk to you."

Stephanie waited until Winston got up to sit down in front of the computer, and Guerrero saw that she'd actually put on makeup! Her eyes were shrouded by smoky shadow, and her lips were darkened with garnet lipstick, "_What's up_?"

"What the hell are you wearing?" he questioned, trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

She leaned back in the chair, "_What? Isn't this how arm candy is supposed to dress_?"

Guerrero took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The last thing we need is people thinking your a prostitute."

"_Hardly,_" she scoffed, "_besides I know how to handle myself around the opposite sex._"

He arched his eyebrow, "Do you now?"

The young woman rolled her eyes, "_Yes dad, I do. Besides if I were a prostitute I think that I'd dress a bit trashier don't you think_?"

_Not exactly_, Guerrero thought to himself, his eyes once more taking in the image that was in fact his daughter, "Don't leave the box tonight."

Stephanie nodded, "_OK, not a problem_."

He shut his laptop and immediately walked out of the tech room, avoiding the questions he knew the prize fighter was going to ask.

Eddie turned to him, "Was that-?"

"Yeah it was, dude, and do me a favor? Don't bring it up," Guerrero snapped, _Just what I need is her parading around Brussels looking like a hooker_.

* * *

Winston looked at the young woman sitting in front of the now black computer screen; he wondered why, even though he never really showed it, Guerrero was so stern with her. She was his daughter, sure, but she was also an adult. Why did it matter what she wore? He wasn't there to judge her. "Stephanie," he saw that when she turned to face him, her expression was blank, "ready to go?"

She nodded, "Yeah, let's get going."

"Whoa."

Both Stephanie and Winston turned to see Chance standing in the doorway, she smirked, "What?"

Chance grinned, "Nothing, it's just...I knew that dress would look good on you I just didn't know it would look _that_ good."

She rolled her eyes, "Flatterer."

"Is it working?" he smirked, blue eyes twinkling.

Stephanie walked up to him, looping her arm through his, "Maybe."

Chance chuckled, "See? I told you, give me a chance, you'll come around."

She smirked, _Maybe it wouldn't be _so_ bad_, "You were right."

"I'm sorry I was what? I didn't hear you," he teased.

Stephanie giggled, "I said, you were right."

Chance smiled, "I have my moments."

"Just be careful out there, OK? We'll keep our eye on Prentice, you just focus on fighting," she stated.

"And I thought Winston was the only one who worried. You and your dad really take the cake," the tall man joked.

Stephanie hit his arm, "Shut up, my dad puts up a tough front but underneath he's just like any other concerned parent."

"Only more dangerous than all three of us put together," he mused.

Her eyebrow arched, which was yet another thing that reminded Chance of Guerrero, "You think my dad's the most dangerous?"

Chance nodded, "Absolutely."

She smirked, _we'll see about that_.

* * *

_Two hours later_

The first fight seemingly went as planned, aside from the fact that Winston had flipped out over Chance's little charade in the ring, and the yips...and almost everything else. But while Winston was throwing his tantrum, Stephanie had been preoccupied with other matters. She had been able to sort out some of Prentice's men that had been hired to tail them, see if they could figure out what 'Grant Johnson' was up to. However, a sway of her hips and a flashed smile kept them at bay like dogs in the heat, something she knew if her dad had seen, he would've been furious.

Winston turned to her when they were back in the room, "Why don't you go play some cards with Prentice, give Chance an opportunity to talk to Eva?"

She nodded, "Guess my dad told you I play poker."

He shook his head, "No, he didn't. I figured since you're sly like your father you might be able to."

Stephanie scoffed, "Ah Winston, always giving compliments," she turned and walked back out of the room down to the casino, where she caught Prentice sitting at one of the poker tables. "Mind if I join you?"

Prentice looked up at her, a charming smile instantly appearing on his face, "Not at all."

She smiled, sitting beside him as the dealer placed her cards expertly in front of her.

"So you're Johnson's girl, right?" the gambler began his attempt at small-talk.

"You make it sound as if I belong to Grant," she smirked, looking down at her cards discretely before placing her bet.

He chuckled, "Don't you, though?"

Stephanie looked at him, "Just like Eva belongs to you?"

Prentice turned to her, keeping his cards face-down, "I don't think I caught your name, sweetheart."

She smirked, "Nikki. Nikki Dodson."

"Well Ms. Dodson, I highly doubt that Eva is any concern of yours."

"Just like I'm no concern of yours, Mr. Prentice," the young woman threw back, slapping his hand that had slithered onto her thigh during their conversation.

He stared at her, his dark eyes locking onto her gaze, "Oh but I think you should be a bit more careful, darling. You don't want Mr. Johnson to get hurt."

Stephanie chuckled, "Oh Grant can do just fine on his own."

Prentice nodded, "Question is," he turned over his hand, with along with cards dealt by the dealer, gave him a four of a kind, "can you?"

She smirked, turning over her cards, revealing a royal flush, "I believe I can," she turned to the dealer, "have that sent to my room please, 2016," she stood, looking at Prentice, "evening Mr. Prentice."

As she walked away, Stephanie watched Eva approach the man she had just beaten in poker, something she knew he wouldn't take lightly, and wondered what Chance had said to her that would make it so urgent for the other young woman to see him.

* * *

"So what did Prentice say?" Chance asked her as he set down the check that had been sent up from the casino, "I doubt it was anything good since you beat him for this much money."

Stephanie scoffed, sitting down on one of the beds and taking off her heels, "He began the conversation with a useless flirt, trying to sneak his hand under my dress, all the while me throwing him insults. After smacking his hand away he threatened your safety and mine, and as he did so he revealed a four of a kind which I, calmly beat with a royal flush."

Winston walked into the room, "Did you do anything else, Miss Bond? Or can we assume that Prentice is going to try and do something to Chance or you within the next two days?"

She looked at him, "We can assume. Now I'm going to go to bed, if you talk to my father tell him I'll call him in the morning," she walked into her room and shut the door.

Chance turned to his partner, "Do you think Prentice will try to hurt her?"

"If he tries, you and I both know Guerrero will be on the first flight here to kick the guy's ass."

"I think Stephanie can take care of herself, after all she's his blood," the tall man stated.

Winston hummed, "Yeah, that's what worries me."

Chance sighed, standing up from the chair, "The girl just won us $200,000 in one game of poker, you worry _too_ much," he tossed the check down in front of Winston before walking to his own room and shutting the door.

"$200,000 ain't gonna save your sarcastic ass in the ring tomorrow!" Winston called, looking at the check with his eyebrows raised, _Damn that girl's got skill_. He sighed, walking over to the laptop and logging on.

"_Hey dude_."

Winston sat down in the chair, watching Guerrero eat yet another container of take-out Chinese food, "Where'd your daughter learn how to play poker?"

Guerrero looked at him over his glasses, "_From me, why_?"

He huffed, holding up the check in front of the camera, "She beat Prentice out for two hundred thousand dollars now I doubt even you could do that."

The smaller man looked into the camera, reading the numbers on the check, "_I never said Stephanie wasn't better than me with a few things, dude._"

"I wouldn't think you'd admit to anyone being better than you, wise ass," Winston deadpanned.

Guerrero eyed him through the camera, "_Stephanie's my kid, man, of course she's good. Is she better than me? At some things, sure. At everything? No._"

"Alright well I'm goin' to bed," he shut the laptop before he had to hear one more word out of Guerrero's mouth. _Might as well enjoy the little silence I have_.

* * *

Stephanie pulled the large USF shirt over her head, her eyes falling on her cellphone, there were four missed calls, each one from Scott, and she didn't know what to do. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that she'd second guess her feelings for her college boyfriend, but with everything that had happened with Chance, she wasn't so sure anymore. The small, electronic device buzzed one more time, Scott's name appearing on the screen. Stephanie sighed, "Would you just leave me alone so I can think?" she shut it off and tossed it aside before she crawled into bed and shut her eyes, questions whirring through her brain.

**AN: Reviews are wonderful!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: OK, so I'm five chapters in and the reviews I've been getting are both helpful and a little bit discouraging. I feel like I'm not really pleasing you guys and I'm giving you more confusing material and things that you can just shoot questions out at. I've been trying to give you answers as best I can but for some reason I feel that it's not doing too much. So for these reasons I'm going to try and make this story a bit more enjoyable. Like I always say reviews are wonderful and appreciated. Also, many thanks to _tree979_ for her help; couldn't have done it without you!**

Chance was usually a very heavy sleeper, but the sound of someone retching in the bathroom woke him, and the fact that they were staying in a shared suite didn't help. He swung his legs off of the bed, treading lightly towards the bathroom, his eyes catching the crack of light coming from under the door. He knocked, "Winston?" There was no answer save for the sound of more vomiting, and by then he knew it wasn't Winston, "Stephanie are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine-e," she coughed between gags.

He jiggled the door handle. Finding it unlocked, he stepped inside, and his eyes fell to the young woman hunched over the toilet, "Steph?"

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, "I'm fine," she said, shaking her head.

"You're not fine," Chance stated, walking over and kneeling beside her, "how much did you drink tonight?" he teased, tucking her hair back behind her ears, "did you eat a decent meal today?"

Stephanie managed a thin smile, "I hardly had anything to drink and yes, I did eat! You're almost as bad as my dad…"

"Do you need your medication?"

Stephanie took a moment to answer as she fought another wave of nausea, as it passed she nodded, "It's in the...fridge-e," The movement set off another wave of sickness, causing her to lurch back to the toilet and vomit once more.

Chance stayed next to her, his hand rubbing a circular pattern over her back, occasionally pushing an errant strand of hair from her face. "Sssh, it's OK. It's OK."

When the heaving in her stomach settled down she sat back and sighed, "The syringes are in my suitcase. One hundred milligrams."

Without saying a word, Chance got up and walked into her bedroom, grabbing a syringe out of her suitcase and the medicine from the refrigerator, his eyes scanning the label: Guerrero, Stephanie. Sandostatin. 100 mg as needed.

He loaded a shot for her then brought it into the bathroom, "Your doctor's treating this with Sandostatin?"

She looked up at him, taking the syringe, "Amongst other medications. My dorm room is like a pharmacy."

Chance smiled sympathetically, "You need help?"

"No, I've got it," she lifted up her shirt and stuck the needle into her lower hip, closing her eyes as she felt the medicine enter her system, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered, still standing over her, "c'mon, let's get you back to bed," he held out his hand to help her to her feet.

Stephanie looked at the large, calloused hand being offered to her, then up at the man himself, "Why do you care so much?" she took his hand, allowing him to pull her up.

Chance stared at her, his hand still holding hers, "Well for starters you're my best friend's daughter, so of course I care. But as to caring about you aside from that...I care because you're like me in a way. You've got a lot of questions and not enough answers, so you search for them one step at a time."

She smirked, "I wasn't talking about just me."

"Yeah you were...in a way," he smiled.

Stephanie gazed into the blue eyes staring down at her, as if she were trying to find the answer to what it was about him that made him so different in that cerulean blue. Suddenly becoming aware she was staring, and that Chance was staring right back, she broke the gaze, "I uh, I'm gonna go to bed. Thank you for helping me."

Chance smiled, "It's all part of the job."

"I'm not a client, Chance," she mused.

"Guerrero made me promise to keep you safe," he said, looking more serious for a moment, "and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

She chuckled, "Do you always follow everything my dad tells you to do?"

He smiled, still not letting her hand go, "When it comes to you? Absolutely."

She smiled back at him, gently pulling her hand out of his grip before walking into her bedroom and closing the door behind her. She had to wonder about his sincerity regarding her father's orders; there was definitely something in that last smile that spoke of more than a friendly interest in her well-being.

* * *

Guerrero sat in front of the laptop, a container of take-out Chinese in hand, "So what's going on?"

"_Nothing, Chance is getting ready for the next fight, and Stephanie's still sleeping. She had a bit of a spasm last night according to Chance_," Winston stated.

His eyes immediately turned to stone, "Spasm? What kind of spasm?"

"_Uh, vomiting, shaky, cold body temperature._"

The shorter man looked at the screen, "When she wakes up have her call me. I'll see what I can find out about Chance's next opponent," he shut the laptop, rushing to the refridgerator and taking out the box of Stephanie's medication. She had four bottles of her "as-needed" medication, and there were twelve monthly shots, which Guerrero found odd. His phone buzzed in his pocket, checking the caller ID, "Steph?"

"_Dad? What's wrong?_" her voice was drowsy, she must've just woken up.

"Winston told me you were sick last night," he stated.

"_I'm fine now, Chance got me my medicine_."

Guerrero sighed, "Did you take your monthly for this month?"

Silence.

"Stephanie?"

"_...No_."

He rubbed his hand over his face, "How late are you to take it?"

Stephanie sighed, "_A couple days_."

"OK, listen to me, you need to get back here now otherwise this is only gonna get worse. You hear me? Get on the next flight back here."

"_Dad I'll be fine-_"

"No. Get on the next flight back here," he hung up, putting the medicine back in the refridgerator before running back to the computer, "Winston? You still there?"

"_Yeah I'm here. Why the hell did you make me wake her up_?"

"I didn't but it's a good thing you did. She needs to get back here immediately, dude, otherwise she's just gonna get sicker by the day. Make sure she's on the next flight back to San Fransisco."

Winston sighed, "_OK._"

Guerrero nodded, "So what are we doing about Chance's next opponent? See what I can dig up?"

"_No I'm not taking any chances, we're gonna fix his next fight_."

He arched his eyebrow, looking into the camera, "And you call yourself a role model?"

Winston sneered, "_Just keep yourself on the comlink wise ass_," he hung up.

* * *

Stephanie was never one to listen to her father when it came to her well-being, so when she was told to pack her suitcase and fly back to San Fransisco, she acted as if she'd never heard the instruction. Instead, she began getting dressed for Chance's next fight. Winston knocked on her bedroom door, "Stephanie, you packed?"

The young woman walked over to the door, opening it so she could look Winston in the eye, "I'm not going back."

"Wh-? Yes you are! Guerrero says you're just gonna get sicker by the day if you don't get home and take your monthly injection!" he snapped.

She rolled her eyes, walking past him, "I'll be fine, it was just a spasm. Besides, one more fight and we'll be back in San Fransisco before you know it."

He watched as she put on a pair of silver earrings; the simple, black backless dress she wore made him almost forget she was the daughter of his least favorite partner, "Do you honestly think you'll last that long?"

Stephanie looked up at him, feigning shock, "Winston, it's almost as if you think I'm not capable of handling my own priorities," her silver heels were almost inaudible on the carpeted floor as she walked once more back into her room, "I'll be fine."

"I miss something?" Chance walked out of the bathroom, his waist wrapped in a towel.

Her cheeks turned bright red, "Nothing...Winston here is siding with my father on the fact that I need to go back to San Fransisco just because I haven't taken my monthly shot yet. However I feel fine and I'm not going home. Not until this is over."

The bodyguard's eyes raked her form up and down, the young woman clad in black and silver sent thoughts buzzing through his brain, "Alright, you can stay, I'll talk to Guerrero when we get back," he turned to Winston, "we ready?"

Stephanie's eyebrows shot up in surprise: how was he going to get her father to understand why she wasn't going to be at SFO at seven o'clock tonight? He really was a mystery, and he had been right, she had far too many questions and not enough answers.

Winston's lips formed a thin line, "Yeah, we're ready. Let's go," he turned and began walking out of the room.

Chance sighed, his eyes falling on Stephanie, noticing that her cheeks were red, "You OK?"

She blinked, turning away, "Yeah, yeah I'm OK. Uh, you should get...get dressed."

He smirked, "Yeah I guess I should."

"I'll meet you down at the ring," Stephanie began to walk away, her face still bright red.

"Stephanie?"

She turned, "Yeah?" what she didn't realize was that he was standing right behind her, and when she turned, she ended up right up against him.

Chance looked down at her, his boyish smirked plastered on his face, "Answer something for me."

As if her face couldn't get any darker, she was sure it was garnet red now, "W-What?"

"What's running through your head right now?" he questioned, his hands slowly rested on her hips.

Stephanie sighed, "Too many things," her aquamarine eyes locked on his cerulean ones, "Chance I-" she was silenced by a pair of soft, strong lips covering her own; at that moment, every single thought that was running through her brain seemed to dissipate into nothingness. All she could think about was what was happening to her at that moment, and what was happening was something she never thought would even come to be. Her hand eclipsed his neck as his tongue slid into her mouth, dancing with hers.

Chance couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as he felt her warm tongue twist with his, her soft hands lightly calloused, from what he did not know, yet the sensation against his skin sent a shiver of delight through his body; something he hadn't felt since Katherine.

"Hey are you two comin-?" Winston barged into the bathroom, his jaw dropping at the sight before him, "What the hell is goin' on?"

The two of them broke apart quickly, Stephanie's face once again bright red as she rushed past Winston, who watched her leave before turning back to Chance, who grinned foolishly at him, "Do you want to explain to me what I just saw?"

"Not really," Chance quipped, walking into his bedroom.

Winston followed him, "You do realize if Guerrero finds out about that he's gonna beat your ass?"

He sighed, "No he won't. Trust me."

"You practically just hooked up with his daughter in the bathroom. You think he won't want to beat you to a pulp?"

Chance looked as if he were pondering the situation, then shook his head, "Nope."

Winston sighed, turning to head out of the suite, "This is not gonna end well."


	7. Chapter 7

Guerrero sat in his car outside of San Fransisco International Airport, his finger tapping steadily against the steering wheel. It was seven thirty, there had been no indication that the flight had been delayed, not had he recieved any form of communication from his daughter, or Winston, or Chance. He wasn't worried, which when it came to Stephanie was somewhat a normal reaction, but instead he was impatient, and above all angry. He heard his phone ringing inside his pocket, he didn't even bother to check the caller ID, "Talk."

"_Dad._"

He sighed, "Steph, where are you?"

"_In the betting box with Winston. Dad listen, I'm not coming home until this is done_."

His body stiffened as anger quickly turned to frustration, "Stephanie..."

"_I'll be fine. Dad, I gotta go the fight's starting, I love you_," click.

Guerrero huffed, "She never listens," he put the car in drive and drove out of the airport. Winston was supposed to make sure that she was on the next flight back, and yet there she was, in Brussels, sitting in the betting box of Grant Johnson, growing sicker by the moment.

* * *

Stephanie sighed as she placed her phone back in her clutch, her mind clouded with regret. Chance had kissed _her_, yet she had kissed him back, knowing all too well that her father would be furious if he ever found out, and if she knew her father, he would.

"Stephanie," Winston put a hand on her shoulder, "how'd that coversation go?"

She smiled sarcastically, "It didn't. I said what I had to say and that was it."

He stared at her, a look of surprise in his gaze, "You didn't let him talk?"

"No," her eyes remained locked on the fighting ring.

Winston sighed, "So do I wanna know what happened back there between you and Chance?"

Stephanie didn't answer him, merely ignoring his question, "So how did you get Chance's opponent to agree to lose the fight on purpose?"

The tall man looked at her, noting that she had ignored him completely, "Your father took care of that."

She glanced at him quizzically, "How?"

Winston didn't answer, his eyes glued on Chance's two minute win, "Don't worry about it, go congratulate your fighter, _arm candy_."

Stephanie glared at him calmly, "It's Nikki Dodson," she stood and walked out of the box, heading down to the locker room. When she got there she noticed that Chance was getting changed, she leaned against one of the metal lockers, "Congratulations Grant."

Chance turned and smiled, "There's no one else here."

She smirked, walking over to him, "Can't take any chances," her heels clicked softly on the stone floor, "about before...Chance I can't do this."

He pulled his shirt over his head, "Why? What is so wrong about this that you keep pushing me away?"

"There are factors about this that you don't understand."

"Tell me, then."

_It's not just a simple explination_, she argued inwardly, this was when she knew all of those questions would come to haunt her. "My disease...it's something that basically controls my life. On a good day I can get the medicine to keep it from getting too severe."

Chance pulled his sweat jacket on, "And on a bad day?"

Stephanie sighed, "I can barely get out of bed the pain is so excruciating. I watched my mother suffer like this for as long as I can remember, and it broke my heart to see her so sick. When she died, it was as if someone had destroyed an entire piece of my existence, and with my father practically never around, I learned to take care of myself, and for a long time that's what I did...until I found out I was sick, too. That resulted in spending days at my aunt's house, and I turned into something of her get out of jail free card. Because she was my mother's sister, she was listed as my legal guardian if anything were to happen, and since I was not yet 18, she had limited access to a private fund that my mother had left behind."

"Let me guess: she wouldn't get full access unless you died?" He questioned, leaning back against the lockers.

She nodded, "Exactly. She figured since I was sick there would be no problem getting her hands on the money."

He bobbed his head once or twice, "How much is in the account?"

"Quite a decent amount of money," she stated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, "I would spend hours listening to her endless rants about how it was my father's fault that my mother had gotten so sick, that it was my father's fault she was dead, and all the while she was using what money she could get from the account to buy booze and other ridiculous purchases. Since she was a drunk, when I came around she thought that she could scare me into doing whatever she said; but when she realized that I was tougher than she expected and that I could fight back verbally, she took the physical approach. When she got hammered, I served as her personal punching bag."

Chance closed his eyes, trying not to process the images that were flashing through his mind: how could something like that have happened to her? "Does Guerrero know?"

Stephanie nodded, running her hand through her hair, "He stopped by one day, found me in my room cleaning up the damage from her latest beating. The two of them had it out, but of course my aunt threw at him that he wasn't fit to take care of me, and so he stormed out. Their argument resulted in her rushing into my room and taking a swing at me with a wine bottle," she turned around, showing him a barely visible scar that started at the nape of her neck and disappeared under the black cloth of her dress, causing Chance to gape at her slightly.

"What else did she do to you?"

She sighed once more, "Several things ranging from forcing my arms over pilot lights on the stove, to depriving me of food for several days. I put up with it, never spoke to anyone about it at school, even though my teachers saw the burns, the scars, and the bruises...but there were times that I couldn't even face going to school. There were nights that I'd end up crying myself to sleep at night, wishing that I were anywhere but there. Finally, when I was seventeen, I got my freedom when I was accepted to SFU a year early; however, my aunt saw it as her meal ticket running away. So, as I was packing, she stormed into my room and held a .45 mm to the back of my head, stating quite plainly that if I tried to leave she'd kill me." Stephanie's entire facial expression went blank, "It was the first time I'd ever felt the barrel of a gun against my skin, the cold metal practically screamed 'death'...it was also the first time I'd ever killed someone."

At this statement, his eyes grew wide, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute...you killed your aunt?"

Her eyes trailed down to the floor, "I knew she'd try to stop me from leaving, so I also knew I'd have to take matters into my own hands. She threatened me, and when I felt the barrel of her gun pressed against my skull, something in me snapped; so I turned, and put three bullets in her stomach. Then I left, without a second glance."

Chance froze, trying to process the entire situation she had just explained to him, "So, you committed murder at the age of seventeen...and it doesn't bother you? At all?"

Stephanie pondered for a moment, she hadn't truly thought about it, "It was like...an annoying pang of confusion at first, but then it turned into an afterthought. Do I regret it? Now that I think about it, maybe; but, if I were in that situation once more would I do the same thing? Absolutely."

"...OK," he nodded, "I understand where you're coming from. But you're saying you push me away because..."

"Because I don't want to put you through the pain of watching me suffer. I know how terrible it is," the young woman stated dismally, her eyes glazing with tears.

Chance sighed, taking her hand in his, "Hey, I want you to look at me, OK?" he watched as she gazed up at him, and he could see the struggle between sadness, strength, and anger she was putting herself through, "I will _always_ be here for you. No matter what," his thumb grazed her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear.

Stephanie leaned into his touch slightly, "Even if I were to tell you I have a boyfriend back at SFU?"

He sighed, "Well he's one lucky guy."

She placed her hand on his cheek, his skin warm from his previous fight, "He's nothing compared to you, Chance."

Suddenly, Chance's phone went off, Winston's name appearing on the caller ID, he sighed, picking up, "Yeah."

"_Where are you two?_"

Chance's eyes fell back on the young woman standing beside him, "We're coming right now," he tossed the phone back onto his bag, "we should get going."

Stephanie nodded, "We should," a smile came across her lips as she watched him pack up, "and Chance?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

"Thank you," she smiled.

Chance couldn't help but feel his face turn red as he smiled, "You're welcome."

The young woman turned on her heel and walked out of the room, and when she did, Chance sighed, "You heard that entire thing, right Winston?"

"_Yeah I heard it. Do you think Guerrero knows all that_?"

"Well she said he knows about the abuse, but I'm not sure about the rest. Did you record this?"

"_Yes I did...why? What are you thinking_?"

Chance lifted his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, "I think that if Guerrero hears how she feels, it'll give him a bit more insight to his daughter's life, and maybe it'll get him to open up with her a bit more."

"_Or maybe he'll flip out on us_."

"Just trust me, OK? I'll take care of it."

"_How about all of the dialouge that concerns you two_?"

He sighed, "Let me handle it."

"_Yeah I bet you will_."

Chance merely ignored his partner's quip, shutting his locker and climbing the stairs to the main part of the hotel; he had forgotten about the part of the converstation that would probably jump out at Guerrero the most. He'd promised to his long-time friend that he wouldn't do anything where Stephanie was concerned, but he just couldn't help himself. He felt different around her, he felt like he was his complete self again, and that was something that he needed. "Winston, don't let Guerrero hear that until we get back to San Fransisco, OK?"

"_Not a problem, now get your ass up to the room._"

"I'm on my way."

**AN: Reviews are wonderful!**


	8. Chapter 8

****

AN: Sorry this took so long, I've been busy getting ready for the holidays!

The rest of the job couldn't have gone any better...well it could have, but Stephanie was just being optimistic. She knew that some things that had happened had been unplanned, like Chance almost being drowned in the pool, but everything else had gone smooth. The three of them were travelling quite comfortably in first class, courtesy of Mr. Bevilacqua; but of course, something had to go wrong. Stephanie had been feeling lightheaded since they arrived at the Brussels airport, now she felt nauseous and had an excruciating migrane.

Chance looked over at the young woman in the chair across the aisle from him, and he noticed immediately that she was sickly pale, "Stephanie, are you OK?"

She shook her head slowly, her hand covering her mouth, "N-No..."

"Winston," he got out of his seat quickly, striding across the aisle and kneeling in front of her, "How many fingers am I holding up?" he raised his middle and index finger.

Stephanie tried to focus, but she was too dizzy, "Six?"

Chance sighed, looking up at his partner, "She's getting worse."

Winston looked at her, "Do you have any more medicine, Stephanie?"

"I...I used the last of it last night," she sighed, holding her head, "why's the plane spinning?"

"Stewardess! Can I get some water and some sort of towel, cloth, anything?" Chance reached up and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, "She's burning up."

A tall, brunette woman dressed in an airline uniform walked over with a glass of water and a wash cloth, "Is everything alright, sir?"

Winston shook his head, "No, this young woman is very sick, how much longer 'til we land in New York?"

She looked worried, "Not for another two hours, and we're above the Atlantic Ocean so there's nowhere we can land. I'm sorry, sir."

Chance practically growled, taking the wash cloth and dousing it with water from the cup before pressing it against her forehead, "Stephanie I need you to focus on my voice, OK? Don't pass out, just try to focus."

Stephanie concentrated as best she could on Chance's instructions, trying not to recognize the sharp pain coursing through her body, "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

Winston sighed, "For once I wish I listened to Guerrero."

"OK, c'mon," Chance helped her out of her chair and toward the bathroom, "nice and easy."

The stewardess turned to Winston, "I'll inform the captain, maybe he can inform the airport to have medical assistance waiting for you at the gate."

"That'd be great, thanks. Can I use my phone?"

She nodded, "Of course," and with that she headed to the captain's cabin, allowing Winston to begin the frustrating phone call he had to make.

* * *

Guerrero was sitting on the couch in his apartment, a cup of tea steaming away on the coffee table. He had recieved a text from his daughter that they were to arrive in New York around two, and they would be in Chicago by six, and San Fransisco by eight. He knew by the time she got home she'd be very sick, he just hoped she would last that long. His phone started buzzing, vibrating loudly against the wood of the coffee table.

"Winston?"

"_Guerrero! You need to get to New York as fast as you can, Stephanie's sick on the plane and she's getting worse by the minute. She needs her medicine!_"

He shot up off the couch, practically knocking his tea to the floor, "I'll be there as soon as I can," he shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his car keys, running out of the apartment complex; he _knew_this would happen. As the El Dorado roared to life, the only thing in his mind was praying to God that Stephanie would be alright.

* * *

Stephanie had spent the past half hour in the bathroom, and Chance could hear her retching and gagging. The fact that she was in this much pain killed him, and he was beginning to worry that she wouldn't make it as far as Chicago, let alone San Fransisco. Winston walked over to him, "I called Guerrero, he's gonna meet us in New York with her medicine."

Chance nodded, listening to Stephanie's soft sobs between her nauseous spasms, "She's getting worse."

Winston stared at his friend, "You really care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah...I do," he replied absentmindedly, "Stephanie, I'm coming in, OK?" She didn't reply, but he watched the small 'OCCUPIED' sign slide over to 'UNOCCUPIED' and the pulled the door open, finding her kneeling on the floor of the small compartment, "Steph."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with frustration, sadness, and above all, pain, "Chance..."

He knelt down behind her, gently rubbing circles on her back, "Your dad's gonna meet us in New York with your medicine."

Stephanie sighed, pushing her hair back, "This is the one time I regret not listening to my dad."

"There have been other times?" Chance teased, trying to get her to focus on something other than the pain.

The young woman rolled her eyes, "I appreciate the effort but it's not working," she exhaled heavily, resting her head on her forearm, "goddamn it hurts."

"You're gonna be OK, Steph. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

She nodded slowly against her arm, "Do you have your phone?"

Chance looked at her, "Yeah, why?"

"Call my dad."

He didn't question her, but merely pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Guerrero's phone number.

"_Dude, where is she_?"

"She's right here and she wants to talk to you," Chance handed the phone to her.

Stephanie sighed, "Dad?"

"_Stephanie, are you OK_?" Guerrero questioned quickly.

"Does it sound like I'm OK?" she stated, wincing at another wave of nausea, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone in her hand.

He sighed, "_This is what you get for not listening to me, dude_."

The young woman scoffed, "Can we please save lectures for when I'm not at a fifty thousand-foot elevation?"

"_Alright, just breathe, listen to my voice. Calm, deep breaths, nice and slow_."

Stephanie listened to her father's calming instructions, the dizziness starting to cease, "I can't feel anything."

She could hear him breathing tensely, "_It's your body's reaction to the disease. You're gonna feel numb for a little bit_."

Chance could only watch helplessly as Stephanie's entire body was overrun by her disease; his only hope was that they landed in New York with enough time to spare.

* * *

_2 Hours Later_

Guerrero stood outside of the gate, tapping his foot impatiently; they needed to deboard _now_, God only knew how sick Stephanie had gotten since he hung up the phone with her. He had her medicine in his bag and anything else she could possibly need, he only hoped that she hadn't gotten sick enough to go to the hospital. He finally saw Chance rushing through the doors, an unconscious Stephanie in his arms, "We need to get her to a hospital, now!"

The short-statured man strode forward, "Dude, I've got her medicine."

"Excuse us," a man dressed in a white polo and white slacks ran up to them, "airport EMT, we were told to come here and take one Stephanie Guerrero to the hospital?"

Guerrero looked at Chance, "What's going on, dude?"

Chance sighed, letting the EMT help him lay Stephanie on the Gurney, "The pilot called the radio tower to tell them he needed medical assistance at the gate."

"Watch out, man," he pushed the EMT aside, taking his daughter's medicine out of the bag that had been slung over his shoulder for the past thirty minutes. As he filled the large syringe with medicine, he glanced at her; he could hear her having trouble breathing, and her ill-colored pallor made him cringe in disappointment: he wasn't there to help her.

The EMT stared at the small man beside him, "Who are you?"

Guerrero flicked the syringe with his index finger, "Her father," he rolled down the waistband of her sweat pants and pushed the needle into her lower hip, injecting the medicine, "let's get her to a hospital."

Winston had remained silent the entire time this happened, his eyes locked on Guerrero. He could tell that the man truly cared about his daughter, even though he wasn't a very compassionate man to begin with. However, for some reason, Winston felt that Guerrero, being he man that he was, was overprotective of Stephanie, trying to keep her in a cage was the reason she held so many things back from him; like her feelings for Chance. Now, Winston had no children of his own, so he had no idea what Guerrero could possibly have gone through over the past twenty-one years of Stephanie's life, but during the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, he contemplated that it couldn't have been much since he wasn't around for most of it, but that was a lot in itslef. The larger man looked at Guerrero sitting next to the Gurney, his hand gently grasping his daughter's: he really did care about her enough to do anything for her, then he looked at Chance, who sat on the opposite side fo the Gurney, sadness flooding his eyes. The two of them were best friends, they went back further than Winston cared to even know about, but he knew, that when Guerrero found out about how Chance felt about Stephanie, the reaction wasn't going to be good.

* * *

"How is she, doc?"

"She's stable, but the disease wracked her internal systems badly, so she's gonna be on medical surveillance for quite a while."

Chance rubbed his hand over his face, "For how long?"

The doctor sighed, "Three months minimum."

Guerrero's eyebrows shot up, "Minimum?"

She nodded, "I'm sorry. In the next few weeks she'll be strong enough to be transported back to San Fransisco, but she'll have to remain in a local hospital until the supervising doctor says she can go home."

"Can we see her?" the taller of the two gentlemen quickly interjected.

"She's sleeping right now, but sure, go right ahead."

Chance walked into the hospital room and sat down beside the bed, his eyes instantly falling on Stephanie's calm face; how peaceful she looked. Her skin had regained a little color thanks to the medicines and fluids the hospital was providing, but between the white bed sheets and the white hospital gown she was wearing, she looked anything else but healthy. He sighed, gently taking one of her limp hands and grasping it lightly, "I'm sorry I let this happen, Steph. I should've been able to do more for you."

Guerrero watched the entire scene from the doorway, the set of piercing eyes behind his glasses were anything but sympathetic. He was good at reading people and their body language, he was _really_ good at it, and when he saw how Chance was acting, an instinct set off in his brain like an alarm; something that did not make him happy. Guerrero could tell Chance didn't know he was standing there, and he had no intention on informing him, either, he wanted to see what his friend was going to do. The subtle grasping of her hand, the way he talked to her, how guilty he sounded, all these things made Guerrero's blood boil with rage: Chance had promised him he wouldn't do anything, but the signals Guerrero was getting were far too obvious to ignore, "Dude," he watched Chance turn to look at him, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

Chance got up, walking towards his friend, "What's up?"

Without any warning, Guerrero grabbed the front of Chance's shirt and jacket, tossing him against the opposite wall, "You slimy son of a bitch. You made a promise to me, dude!"

"What are you talking about?" Chance was shocked by what had just happened, and as he stared up at his friend from the floor, he could see the anger in his expression.

Guerrero glared at him, "You pracitcally have 'Love-sick Puppy' stamped on your forehead, man."

The taller man froze for a moment: he'd figured it out. Chance began to slowly stand up, "Guerrero, listen to me. Nothing hap-"

In the blink of an eye, the short man spun around and landed a side kick right into Chance's stomach, knocking him back against the wall, hard, "I don't wanna hear your excuses."

Chance shot up from the linoleum floor, throwing quick jabs and hooks that Guerrero avoided smoothly. With a short duck, the small man jabbed Chance in the stomach and his hip, wrapping his hands around Chance's neck, "You should know better than to piss me off, dude."

As he began to feel the loss of air flow to his lungs, Chance struggled against the grip of his friend, "G-Guerr-ero..."

"DAD, LET HIM GO!"

* * *

When Stephanie finally began to wake up, she noticed that she was no longer on the airplane, but she was in a hospital bed, and judging from the noises outside, she was in New York City. The young woman looked around the bleached room, her vision blurry from her drug-induced "coma." Something that caught her attention, however, was a loud bang coming from the hallway; her eyes grew wide when she saw her father and Chance trying to beat the shit out of one another. The thing that made her snap to, was when her father began choking Chance.

"You should know better than to piss me off, dude."

Stephanie watched Chance struggle against her dad's grip, "G-Guerr-ero..."

"DAD, LET HIM GO!" she cried, sitting up straight in her bed.

Guerrero turned and looked at her, his gaze was foreign to her, "Steph?"

The young woman breathed slowly and heavily, "Let, him go."

Chance looked up at Guerrero once more, before he was finally released, allowing him to acquire the oxygen his burning lungs so desperately craved.

Guerrero walked into the room, "Thank God you're OK."

She stared at him in disbelief, "What the hell was that all about?"

He sighed, "A disagreement, but it's over now."

"Yes it is," Chance walked over, the same smile on his face as if nothing had happened.

Stephanie smiled, "Chance."

He grinned, "You're alright?"

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged, "so do I want to know what that little sparring match was about?"

Guerrero flashed a warning glance at his friend, "No, nothing special."

Stephanie turned to Chance, "Is everything alright, Chance?"

He nodded, "Yeah, fine. So the dotor says in the next few weeks you'll be in a hospital back home for a little bit before anything else happens."

"Good," she sighed, resting back against the pillow of her bed, "I'm exhausted."

"So sleep, sweetheart," Guerrero smiled, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, "I'll be here."

Stephanie nodded, "Alright," her eyes fell on Chance, "see you in San Fransisco."

Chance watched as she dozed off, "See ya."

As soon as he was sure his daughter was asleep, Guerrero immediately turned to face Chance, "Mark my words, dude, you hurt her, and you'll wish you never met me."

"I'd never hurt her, Guerrero. I care about her just as much as you do."

The shorter man stiffened slightly, "No you don't, dude. No you don't," he walked out of the room, fiddling with the keys to the Eldo: he'd never been put between a rock and a hard place before, now he was there and he didn't like it at all. Chance was his best friend, but Stephanie was his daughter, and she was the only thing he had left in his life that was meaningful. Guerrero didn't want to lose either of them, but he had to do what he had to do to protect his family, and if that meant betraying Chance then he would. Baptiste was right: he wouldn't betray Chance until he lost everything, and right now he was pretty damn close.

**AN: Reviews make me very happy!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry this took so long! And I must give a huge thank you to tree979 for all of her help!**

Chance walked through the hospital hallway for the fifth time that morning, now carrying a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea and a mozzarella and provolone panini from a small Italian delicatessen down the street from the hospital. It'd been almost a month since Stephanie had been transfered from the hospital in New York City to San Fransisco, and Chance had spent practically every minute he could with her. Now she was as close to healed as she could be, and they were letting her out sometime that afternoon, and for some reason he just couldn't wipe the childish grin off his face. He rounded the corner and knocked twice on the door.

"_Come in_."

He smirked, opening the door and holding up the panini, "Lunch."

Stephanie chuckled, "Chance, you're far too good to me."

"Well you're going home today so I figured we might as well celebrate," he sat down in the chair next to her bed, placing the sandwich and tea in front of her.

She smiled, "Thank you."

Chance nodded, "Has your dad stopped by?"

The young woman nodded, "Yeah. He was here yesterday."

"Really?"

"Yup. I know, shocking," Stephanie teased, handing him a half of the sandwich, "I'm not going to eat the whole thing."

He sighed, accepting the food begrudgingly, "You should at least try."

She took a bite of the warm sandwich, covering her mouth with her hand as she chewed, "I know...but I can't help it. I know how much I can and can't eat, and I still can't eat all that much."

Chance didn't answer her, merely giving her that look that always meant he was thinking up some crazy idea.

"What are you planning now?"

"Go on a date with me."

Those words were so out of the blue to Stephanie, that she didn't answer him, only staring at the man she'd grown so fond of over the past month, "A date?"

He nodded, "Yep. A date."

She chuckled, "What like...like candle-lit dinner and a glass of wine in front of the television kind of date?"

Chance leaned back in his chair, "Now c'mon, you've gotta think that I'm a bit more original than that."

"I'd be terrified to see you cook for me, that's true," she teased.

"Hey!" He feigned hurt, covering his heart with his hand, "C'mon say yes."

Stephanie rolled her eyes with a smile, "If you promise we won't be sky diving or bunji-jumping or...whatever suicidal thing you can come up with. Then yes I will."

Chance smiled, "Sky diving's not a bad idea actually."

"Chance..."

"I know, I know, I promise. Nothing crazy."

She nodded, "OK."

Silence enveloped the duo once more, both of them eating their half of the sandwich without saying another word. Finally, Chance spoke again, "You know, your dad doesn't want you to work any more cases."

"Is that supposed to be his form of a joke?" Stephanie looked up at him, anger now filling her gaze.

He shook his head, "No, he's dead serious. He doesn't want a repeat of, well this."

The young woman scoffed, "That's his way of saying he doesn't think I'm capable of handling the job."

"Well I think he's wrong," Chance explained, "which is why I told him I wasn't going to agree with it."

For a moment Stephanie didn't know if he was just trying to schmooze her, but from the tone of his voice, she could tell he was being honest, "I don't need the two of you fighting again. I really don't."

He nodded, "I know. I know you don't, but right now there's no reason for you not to be working."

"So what do you expect to do about it? Change my dad's mind? Good luck with that, if you get anywhere let me know," she snapped, lying back against the bed once more.

Chance sighed, when she was stubborn she was _stubborn_, "You're out of here at three, I'll take you home, and get you settled."

Stephanie nodded, "OK, sounds good."

He stood, "Steph."

"Yeah," she looked at him.

The bodyguard bent over and pressed his lips chastely to hers, "I'll see you in a bit," and with that he left.

* * *

Stephanie had been in the hospital for...well she'd lost track of how long, and staring at white walls for days upon days was driving her insane. As Chance said she was allowed to leave at three o'clock, and about ten mintues after the nurse had transferred her into a wheelchair, Chance was there waiting for her.

"Well you're looking better already," he teased, taking the wheelchair from the nurse and pushing the young woman down the hall.

She smirked, "Thanks, it's only been four hours."

Chance nodded, "I find smaller increments of time produce better results."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Stephanie looked up at him, obviously very confused.

"Don't worry about it," he stated, pushing her out of the hospital and down the sidewalk to her car, "now don't argue with me, because I'm driving."

"It's my car!" she gaped, standing up from the chair slowly, "I'm driving."

The bodyguard shook his head, "Nope, doctor's orders," he watched the look on her face turn from frustration, to anger, to begrudged acceptance, all of which he found quite amusing.

"Fine," she grumbled, cursing under her breath as she climbed into the passenger's seat of her Tahoe.

Chance left the wheelchair by the entrance to the hospital and got into the driver's seat, "Now, do you need anything in the apartment? Groceries, laundry, anything like that?"

Stephanie smiled at him, "You don't have to do any of that."

He nodded, "I know, but I want to."

She sighed, "I have some laundry to do but it's not necessary at the moment."

"Nope, done," he put the car in drive and made his way back to her apartment, parking right in front of the complex.

Stephanie watched him get out of the car and walk around to her door, opening it and holding out his hand, "C'mon."

She glanced down at his hand, "I can walk."

"Steph, please," he chided, taking her hand in his.

The young woman ignored his plea, stepping out of the car as if nothing was wrong with her, "I can walk, Chance," she smiled, placing her free hand on his cheek before taking her apartment key and walking up the stairs, pulling the door open, "you coming?"

He sighed, following her inside and down the sun-soaked hallway of the apartment building, watching her open one of the doors closer to the elevator and step inside. He'd never been inside her apartment before, and he was surprised to find that it was relatively normal.

"Thanks for bringing me home, Chance."

The bodyguard smirked, "I'm sure you need groceries, give me the money I'll get them."

Stephanie glanced over her shoulder at him, "No I'm fine."

Chance shrugged, "Suit yourself," he watched as she straightened up a few things before walking into her bedroom, "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"OK!" she called from the other room.

"Where something nice," he smirked, walking out the door and shutting it behind him.

* * *

"Chance where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Stephanie had dressed for dinner as instructed; however, in the area of the city they were driving through, there wasn't a restaurant in sight.

"Chance," she insisted, giving him a look that showed just how much she hated surprises.

He chuckled, "I'm not telling you anything except that you'll be changing," Chance gazed at her admiringly, the simple black dress she wore elegantly hugged each curve of her body, and the small sparkle around her neckline gave it a classy touch.

The young woman glared at him, "Then why make me wear this in the first place?"

"Because...I wanted to see you in a dress," he stated, looking out the window of the limo as his lips curled into a smile.

Stephanie smirked, "You didn't need to rent this by the way."

"Courtesy of Winston," the bodyguard looked at her with the same smug grin on his face.

She laughed as the limo stopped, allowing her to see where they were, "Chance, what are we doing?"

"Sparring. C'mon," he took her hand, pulling her out into the cool night air, "it'll be fun."

Stephanie stood with her mouth agape, "Are you serious?"

Chance nodded, "Yup, let's go."

"Chance," she gripped his hand, forxing him to look at her, "this is crazy."

"What?" he chuckled, "you can kick my ass. You know you can."

The young woman sighed, "One drop of blood and I'm done."

"Deal," he kissed her cheek, leading her into the building, "I stole some of your work out clothes so you could change," he handed her a duffle bag that was on one of the benches, "locker room is over there."

Stephanie sighed, taking the bag and walking over to the locker room.

Chance took off his jacket and reached for a bottle of champagne he had chilling in a bucket of ice, the cork creating an audible pop.

"_What was that_?" she called.

"Nothing!" he smirked, pouring two glasses just as she came back, now dressed in sweat pants and a sports bra, giving Chance a perfec view of her tone stomach, "steroids are really bad for you."

Stephanie chuckled, wrapping her hands in protective gauze, "As if I'd take them."

Chance nodded, "Sure," he handed her one glass of the bubbling liquid, "cheers."

She smiled, tapping her glass against his, "Boozing me up before a fight?"

"Leveling the playing field."

"Mmhmm," she teased, taking a sip before placing the glass down on the bench, "c'mon, you wanted to do this."

Chance sighed to himself, "OK," he gulped down his glass of champagne before climbing into the ring with her.

* * *

Guerrero had been sitting outside of Stephanie's apartment building for ten minutes, ten minutes and he'd already seen more than he wanted to. Chance arrived in a rented limo, no doubt he used the wad of cash Winston had left on the counter the other day. Stephanie had come out in a black cocktail dress, but a dinner date wasn't Chance's style.

"What are you up to, dude?"

He watched the sleek, black vehicle pull away, and as he put his El Do in drive, he followed en suit. He couldn't see through the tinted windows, but he was sure they had no idea who was following them, if they even knew that. After driving through an entire area without a restaurant in sight, he pulled to a stop a few blocks away from their destination: a work out studio? Now Chance was getting confusing. Guerrero took a sip of his coffee as he observed his daughter and Chance get out of the limo, the two of them exchanging a few words and a kiss on the cheek, something that made his blood boil, they entered the building.

After waiting a few minutes, Guerrero got out of his car and stealthily crossed the street, opening the door just a crack so he could see inside, and what he saw he couldn't help but smirk at: sparring. Now that was more like his friend.

* * *

"Tsae!" Stephanie yelled as she landed yet another kick to Chance's abdomen, the young woman bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, "C'mon old man, just because TaeKwonDo is ten times better than Muay Thai doesn't mean you have to give up."

Chance chuckled, rubbing his chest, "I'm letting you win."

She laughed, "Really? Well then stop letting me win, it's pathetic," she threw a few jabs and fake kicks before executing a butterfly kick that Chance didn't even see coming.

He landed on the mats face down, "Ow!"

"Chance!" she stopped in her tracks, rushing over to him, "I'm sorry, are you OK?"

The bodyguard laughed hysterically, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her to the mat, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, I win!"

Stephanie laughed, "That's not fair!"

"What? You said stop letting you win, so I did," he smiled, looking down at her: several blonde curls stuck to her face, which glistened with persperation.

She smiled, "What is it?"

He shrugged, "Nothin', I'm just getting the urge to kiss you right now."

"Really," she arched her eyebrows in amusement, "what's stopping you?"

Chance smiled, leaning down to press his lips to hers, completely ignoring the person spying in on them at that moment.

* * *

Guerrero felt his entire body burn with rage as he watched the two of them. Chance couldn't care less that he didn't want his daughter wrapped up in something like this, and Guerrero knew that Chance would hurt her, one way or another. His friend wasn't the type to keep a solid relationship, and he wasn't about to let him break Stephanie's heart just for a fling. He sighed, _this is not going to end well_.

"Dad?"

_Dammit_, he looked up to see his daughter staring at him incredulously, and he didn't waste any time shutting the door and rushing across the street.

"Dad!" she ran out the door behind him, Chance following her as she stopped her father, "What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me!"

Guerrero sighed, "Yeah, I did."

Chance looked at him, "Guerrero, listen, I don't know what problem you have with this but just let it go. Stephanie's an adult, she can make her own decisions."

"Shut up, dude," he glared angrily at his friend.

Stephanie crossed her arms, "Dad, Chance is right."

"And it's not like I'm trying to do anything funny-"

Guerrero swung his fist across Chance's face, "I said shut up."

"Dad!"

Chance got up, throwing a jab before grabbing Guerrero's arm and twisting it behind his back, "I don't want to fight you, bro."

The shorter man growled, ducking under his arm and elbowing Chance in the shoulder.

"Dad stop!" She grabbed her father's arms, pulling him aside and slamming him against the wall, "Just stop!"

Guerrero sighed, looking at his daughter, "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"He's not going to hurt me, dad," she huffed, "and the sooner you realize that the easier this will be for all of us."

She watched as he shrugged her off, walking to his car silently, "Dad."

Chance sighed, walking over to her, "Let him blow off some steam."

Stephanie watched a line of blood leak out of the corner of his mouth, "You're bleeding."

He nodded, "It happens. It's nothing."

"C'mon, let's get out of here," the two of them walked back to the limo, watching the El Do speed past them.

* * *

Chance couldn't help but feel some form of guilt, he was causing larger rift between Stephanie and Guerrero than there was already. However, he knew that it was Stephanie's decision, and in time Guerrero would come to accept it. He watched as she pulled one of his T-shirts over her head, the hem of it coming to rest at mid-thigh, he could see a hint of sadness in her eyes, but he knew she was trying to hide it.

"Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" he offered.

She shook her head, sitting down on the couch and curling her legs under her, Carmine jumping up to join her and resting his head in her lap. Chance poured two glasses of scotch, his bare feet padding across the metal floor, "C'mon Carmine, down."

The dog huffed, giving the man a look that obviously said he wasn't going anywhere. Stephanie sighed, petting the dog's head, "Carmine up."

He relented, jumping off of the couch to give Chance room, "Here," he offered one glass to the young woman already seated, which she took greatfully.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she sighed, tracing her finger around the rim of the glass, "but you know my dad."

Chance nodded, sitting next to her, "Yeah I do, which is why I know he'll get over it," he took her hand in his, "there's nothing to worry about."

Stephanie sighed, looking at him wearily, "What if you're wrong?"

"What if I'm not?" he challenged, "drink your scotch then we'll go to bed."

The young woman downed the amber liquid in one shot, placing the glass down on the side table, "I'll be in the guest bedroom."

He grabbed her hand, "Why don't you stay with me for the night?"

Stephanie smirked, "Why?"

"Because, you shouldn't be alone right now," Chance stood, placing his full glass on the table, locking eyes with her.

She sighed, "You didn't drink your scotch."

"I don't care about the scotch," he interjected, "I care about you, and how you feel. I really don't know how many times I have to say that for you to believe me."

"I do believe you Chance, I really do," Stephanie placed her hands on his chest, "I just, don't know how to express it as well as I want to."

Chance nodded, "Don't think about it, just let it happen," he pushed her hair away from her neck, placing a gentle kiss on her jaw line.

Stephanie gripped his shoulders, she could feel the heat radiating off of him, "Chance..."

"Sssh," he hummed against her neck, his lips now harshly caressing the crook of her neck as he slowly led her to his bedroom. He could feel her relaxing more and more as she got used to the proximity, her hands gently trapsed up his back. The young woman felt each scar and each muscle of his bare back, and it surprised her to think that she wasn't even alive when most of those injuries happened. That was another factor that made her uneasy, but she ignored: he was much older than her, although neither of them cared to acknowledge that tidbit.

"Chance?" she felt the bed against the back of her calves, and it was then that she finally saw the lustful look in his eyes.

He ran his hand up the soft skin of her leg, "If you don't want to do this, I understand."

She smiled, kissing him slowly, her tongue dancing with his in passion, and Chance needed no further explination: she wanted this, she wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. With as much care as possible he pushed her to lay back against the mattress, allowing him to climb on top of her, never once breaking that kiss.

* * *

Stephanie spent the next week or so studying on her own, watching television, and eating take-out Chinese or pizza. Her phone hadn't made a sound for weeks, and she was surprised that her father hadn't shown his face, although she didn't mind the silence very much. Chance stopped by every now and then, usually just to check up on her, talk, see how things were going. Once and a while he even spent the night, using an excuse that it was too cold in her living room to sleep on the couch, and she didn't mind. In fact, ever since the night at his loft, Stephanie had grown quite accustomed to falling asleep with her head on his shoulder, and waking up to the smell of the attempted breakfast-in-bed; something she found amusing.

That morning she awoke to the pungent smell of cinnamon, a spice she didn't even know she had in her pantry, and the sound of metal clanking on her kitchen floor. She sighed with a smile, climbing out of bed and picking up Chance's dress shirt, putting it on as her bare feet padded along the wood flooring of her hallway. "Ya know, if you need help in the kitchen, just wake me up."

Chance turned around, causing the young woman to burst out in laughter, "What? What's so funny?"

Stephanie almoswt had to support herself on the wall behind her as she laughed at the sight of him: he wore his boxers, an apron, and nothing else, "You practically scream '_Kiss the Cook_'."

He smirked, "Well I haven't gotten a kiss all day."

"It's nine in the morning."

"Exactly," he tapped his cheek.

She sighed with a smile, "You're lucky you're not a nuisance."

The bodyguard discretely coated the index finger of his other hand with whipped cream as he watched her walk over to him. As she was about to place a kiss on his cheek, he swiped her nose with the confectionary treat, "Oops, looks like you've got a little somethin' on your face," he laughed.

Stephanie gaped at him, "You did not just do that."

Chance nodded, "You're right I'm sorry, c'mere," he took her hand, pulling her closer so he could wipe the cream off of her face, "like a new penny," he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

She smirked, reaching behind him to take some of the whipped cream and smear it over his mouth, "What a messy eater you are."

He glared at her playfully while she giggled like a thirteen-year-old girl, "Get over here," he reached for her waist, causing her to squeal and run away, anticipating what he was trying to do.

"No!"

"Steph!"

"No!" she cried with another giggle as he jumped over the couch, pulling her down on it with him.

"Give up?" he chuckled as he tickled her abdomen, watching her writhe uncontrollably in a fit of hysteria.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I give up! Stop!" she laughed.

Chance grinned, "Good," he pressed his cream-covered lips to hers, causing her to continue laughing.

Stephanie smiled into the kiss, her hand wrapping around his neck as she tried not to fall off the couch, "Mmh!"

The two of them rolled off of the couch and onto the floor, both of them laughing, "I-I think breakfast is burning," Chance smiled.

"Wouldn't be the first time," she teased, standing up to rush to the stove and shut off the burner with just enough time to keep it from burning, "you didn't need to make French toast, and I think you put a little too much cinnamon."

He shrugged, "Hey, at least I tried."

"And thank for your trying, now sit down and eat while I make some coffee," she slid the toast out of the pan and onto a large plate, placing it in front of him before turning to start the coffee maker.

Chance watched as she moved around the kitchen quickly, cleaning up the mess he made, "Why don't you move into the loft with me?"

At this question, Stephanie glanced over her shoulder at him, "Seriously?"

He nodded, placing another piece of French toast in his mouth, "Why not? We'd be around each other all the time, and I'd make breakfast for you every morning."

"I think breakfast would have to be my job," she smirked as she placed a cup of coffee beside his plate, "but what about my dad? He's not exactly happy about _us_."

"Guerrero's been my friend for a long time, he'll come around," Chance reassured her, but the silent nod she gave told him she wasn't convinced, "Steph."

"Hm?" she hummed, hopping up onto the counter and stirring the hot liquid quietly.

"Stephanie," he probed, standing up and walking over to her, "hey," he took her chin in his thumb and forefinger, lifting her head so he could look into her eyes, "It's about you and me. Not what your father thinks."

The young woman sighed, "I know, but still I'd like him to be at least comfortable with the situation."

Chance took her coffee mug and placed it on the counter beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist, "You, are the one person who's been able to make me genuinely happy in a long time, and I'm not about to lose you. So let Guerrero be mad, or vindictive, or whatever the hell he wants to be, and let's just enjoy this: you and me."

Her lips curled into a slow smile, "Do I detect a hidden 'I love you' in there?"

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd pick up on that," he answered truthfully, his thumb gently stroking the curve of her hip.

Stephanie felt a tug at her heartstrings: aside from her mother, and in some instances her father, Chance was the only person to say something like that and truly mean it, "I love you, too, Chance."

The bodyguard smiled, gently kissing her once more, his hands resting on her lower back. Stephanie sighed into the kiss, her hand wrapping around his neck as she pressed her body as close as humanly possible to his. Chance smiled, slowly pulling away, "I gotta go. Winston's probably wondering where I am."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, "I'll see you later."

"I'll call you around three, pack some clothes and stuff in a bag and we'll celebrate you moving in with an inaguatory dinner of take-out sushi and a six pack of Heineken," he mused.

"Sounds great," Stephanie chuckled, sliding off of the counter and taking off his dress shirt, "that's yours," she winked as she walked toward the bathroom.

* * *

Three o'clock stared her in the face as she flipped mindlessly through the television channels. He hadn't called her like he said he would, and now she was worried: had something happened? Was there a case she didn't know about? She thought of all the possibilities, but she knew that the bottom line was that Chance would've told her about anything like that. So she decided to take the initiative, throwing on a pair of jeans and a Polo shirt, along with her sneakers, before exiting her apartment. Stephanie jumped down the stairs two at a time and pushed the door wide open as she left the apartment complex, jogging down the street to her car.

The drive was short to Chance's building, but in no time she was in the elevator on her way to the tenth floor loft, tapping her foot impatiently. Stephanie pulled her phone out of her pocket one more time, making sure no one had tried to get in contact with her, before sliding it back into its rightful place. The soft ding of the elevator alerted her that she'd arrived, but when the doors opened she had to make sure she hadn't chosen the wrong floorm because what she saw was horrific: the windows were smashed, the furniture tossed. All in all someone had completely destroyed the loft, and there was no sign of Chance or Winston, or even her dad for that matter.

"Chance?" Stephanie called as she treaded lightly across the floor, glass crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers as she made her way to the staircase, "Winston? Dad?"

She found Carmine lounging on Chance's empty couch, and the sight of someone familiar made the dog pant happily.

"C'mere Carmine," the young woman pat her hand against her thigh, causing the Rottweiler to jump off of the couch and run to her, following her around the rest of the loft. When she was sure no one was there, she called Chance's cell phone, no answer. She called Winston, straight to voicemail. She called her dad, same thing. What was going on? "Alright, this is officially weird," she glanced down at Carmine, who gave her a goofy-looking smile that almost said, _At least I'm here_. Stephanie smiled, "Let's get you somewhere a bit cleaner," she took his collar and brought him down to the elevator, both woman and dog getting into her Tahoe and heading back to her apartment complex.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: OK readers, I've noticed that people are adding this as a favorite story and subscribing for updates and such (which I appreciate completely :D) I'm just not seeing a lot of reviews :(. So on that note, please, please, please, please, PLEASE review! It gives me a lot of insight as to what you're all looking for and it also boosts my confidence that the story is doing well!**

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* * *

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Another week or so went by and Stephanie still had heard nothing from anyone, and she'd begun to think that something seriously wrong had happened. She took care of Carmine, who had grown comfortable living in her tiny apartment, but still she could tell that he too was wondering where everyone else had gone. One day, while she was paying for yet another order of Chinese, her phone rang in her pocket, caller ID...unknown? Of course she was confused, but she picked up anyway, "Hello?"

"_Steph._"

"Dad? Where the hell have you been?" Stephanie practically screamed, juggling her phone and the take-out bag as she opened the door to leave the restaurant.

"_I've been busy_," Guerrero sounded hesitant, as if he didn't want to give her the entire explination: typical.

She rolled her eyes, "Too busy to let your daughter know what's going on? I haven't heard from you in a month!"

"_Been busy, dude_."

"Yeah, dad, that's nothing new. A week ago I go to the loft to find it trashed and the three of you nowhere to be found. Where the hell are Winston and Chance, and where the hell are you?" the young woman sighed, holding the phone with her shoulder as she struggled to get her key into the doorknob, "damn it!" she hissed, dropping her keys for the second time before finally getting the door open.

"_Steph, Chance is gone,_" he father practically snapped, frustration obvious in his tone.

For a moment she was inclined to believe her father, but as Stephanie stood in the doorway of her apartment, she found herself unable to move, unable to think until she knew what had happened, "What do you mean gone, dad?"

Guerrero went silent for several seconds, "_I'm gonna be MIA for a bit so I'll call you when I can_."

"Dad, what happened?" she demanded, but the only sound she was met with was the dial tone of her cell, and the only thing she could do was fight back the tears of anger and sadness threatening to leak out of the corners of her eyes. Chance had just up and left, for a reason she did not know; why would he do such a thing? What about everyone that cared about him? Winston? Her dad? Hell, what about her? He'd wanted her to move in with him, and if Chance _loved_her so much, why would he disappear with no explination?

All of the questions running through her mind made her abandon her appitite, leaving the now faintly warm bag of take-out on the kitchen counter, which Carmine took and interest in. Her keys were probably still in the door, but at that moment she couldn't have cared less if someone came in to rob her, rape her, or even kill her. She was too confused and too upset to give a damn. To make matters worse, her father was leaving without so much as telling her where he was planning on going, not even taking her with him! He knew she had been expelled from the university, she had no doubt, so why not just let her tag along? Did he think that after everything that had happened in Brussels many many moons ago, she was not up to the task? That it would be too dangerous for her? No. He was probably just thinking about what was best for Guerrero and his reputation. Stephanie scoffed to herself as she slumped down in front of her laptop; reputation. What kind of reputation did her father have to hold up except one of fear, murder, and anguish? The young woman knew that every time he had said that she was all he had left that he was lying: he had his _reputation_, and his job. The only two things he ever truly loved. Did he ever love her mother or herself, or had he just decided to show up that day at the university and ask for her help just so he could get the job done and wash his hands of it, closure of some sort? Either way, she was going to find out; she took her cell phone in her hand once more and plugged it into the USB wire that was connected to her laptop and began typing away at the screen that had appeared, her gaze hardened with concentration.

After what felt like forever, Stephanie's lips curled into a smile of victory as an address blinked up at her, one that she didn't know herself, but she knew that it would have some form of signifigance, "Gotcha."

Carmine had drifted over to her, slumping down onto the floor with an audible huff, causing her to glance down, "I'll be back, buddy," she got up and walked out of the apartment.

* * *

Guerrero strode around his studio apartment, searching for anything else he might need. Miami wasn't the kind of place that would require much of anything, but he still liked to be prepared. The short-statured man glanced over at his duffle bag: fake ID was printed, scanned, and packed, guns, ammo, and other forms of weaponry were tucked away safely. He had some clothes packed in another bag, his tackle box was in the trunk of the El Do, and everything else he had money to pay for in the warm location he was heading to. After making sure he was ready to go, he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up the suitcase, rolling it across the wodden floor behind him. Guerrero glimpsed at a picture he had on his dresser, stuck between the glass and the frame: it was a picture of Stephanie, probably around the age of five or six, kneeling beside a large pumpkin, autumn leaves of red, orange, and gold surrounding her. Her hair was much lighter then, and her young, happy smile was accented by his trademark, arctic blue irises.

He knew it had been wrong not to tell his daughter where he was headed, and he was also wrong not to give her a contact number of sorts, but it was for her own protection. Guerrero knew he had an unorthodox way of showing affection, but it was the only way he knew how. He sighed, taking the picture and tucking it into his shirt pocket before leaving the apartment, his suitcase thudding down the stairs behind him as he exited the building. The warm sun was harshly cut by the cool wind that rushed past him every now and then as he walked to his car, but he had a feeling that something wasn't right, and he hated that feeling. It wasn't until he arrived at his car that he realized exactly what was wrong.

"You are some piece of work, you know that?"

He stopped in the center of the sidewalk, squinting at her through his glasses, "How'd you find me?"

"Tracked your phone. But you're not going anywhere until you tell me where Chance is."

Guerrero sighed, looking down at the ground, "What are you doin' here? I told you I'd call you when things got better."

Stephanie was leaning against the driver's side door of her father's Caddilac, her piercing eyes staring straight at their genetic predecessor, "Yeah, and we both know that means never," she pushed off of the car and walked over to him, "you really had me fooled, dad. You actually had me thinking for a minute that you truly cared about me."

"I do care about you Steph. It's-"

_THWACK_.

Stephanie swung a backhand right across his face, "Save the bullshit story for someone who believes it. I'm sick and tired of coming second to your reputation and your job. _I'm_ your daughter. _I'm_ your supposed life. If any of that is true, then you should start showing it a bit more. Yeah I get it if you want to just disappear, but at least tell me where the Hell you're going, or better yet, take me with you! I know that you know I got expelled, so why not just invite me along for the ride? And as for Chance disappearing, you sure you didn't give him another beat-down because we were gonna move in together? That you didn't just drive him away?"

The last bit of news shocked Guerrero, although he didn't show it, but now he felt even more guilty, yet he said nothing.

The young woman scoffed, "You did didn't you? You drove him away, your own friend."

He had no answer to give her; his cheek seared with pain, but his heart hurt more, "Steph...I gotta go."

She sighed, "Fine, that's how you wanna be? When you come back to San Francisco, if ever, don't even bother calling me," the young woman pushed past him roughly, "I hope you rot in Hell."

Guerrero watched his daughter walk down the street and around the corner, and when she disappeared behind the building, he felt as if his entire existence had just disintegrated into dust. He sighed, thinking about chasing after her, but deciding it would be beating a dead horse. He also considered chasing her down in the El Do, but again that would do him no good whatsoever. Slowly, he walked back down the sidewalk and around the corner, noting the small outline of a Chevy Tahoe making a left at the street light three blocks up, only one thing in his mind right now: he'd screwed up big time.

* * *

_Six months later_

"Guerrero, I need to speak with you."

"Sure, Chief."

The soft chatter of lab workers and the scuffing of shoes against the linoleum filled the air of the San Fransisco crime lab, and it was what Stephanie could proudly call her place of employment. She didn't like the fact that the Chief of Police kept calling her by her last name, since it brought back the memory of that painful, one-sided arguement between her and the significantly unnamed other. However, she dealt with it, hiding the fact that she even had a living relative, who by now probably had reconstructed his life in some other state, "What's the problem?"

The tall, salt and pepper-haired gentleman looked at her, "There's someone here who would like to speak with you."

Stephanie looked at him through her newly cut bangs, "Alright, who is it?"

He didn't answer her, merely gesturing to one of the briefing rooms, allowing her to walk ahead of him. The young woman tensed momentarily, she was expecting the worst as always, but when she entered the room that feeling dispersed itself quickly.

"Miss Stephanie Guerrero?"

"Yes ma'am."

A tall, slender woman with dark hair, olive skin, and brown eyes turned from the window to look at her, "My name is Ilsa Pucci."

Stephanie's eyes went wide, "It's a...pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Ilsa nodded, "Yes, likewise. Your superiors tell me you're the best detective they've hired so far. Which is why I've come to ask you for your assistance on a matter of security."

"What matter of security, Mrs. Pucci?" the young woman shut the door behind her, allowing the billionairess to sit at the head of the conference table.

"Several months ago someone killed my husband, and now I'm afraid they're after me."

Stephanie nodded, "I see, so you want all of your bases covered protection-wise."

"Exactly, however, I have already hired a professional, I just knew that it would also require your expertise."

"And, who might this professional be, if you don't mind my asking?" the young woman got that feeling in her gut that something wasn't right.

Ilsa leaned back in her chair with a victorious smirk, as if she'd been waiting for the younger female to ask this very question, "Christopher Chance."

Stephanie's blood ran hot with anger, but her skin turned pale white. Chance? How had this woman hired Chance?

"I believe you've worked with him before?"

"Yes-Yes ma'am," the detective cleared her throat, "we have a, uh, past, as it were."

Ilsa's eyebrows arched in interest, "Really? Well I should inform you that your father was also happy to hear that I had the interest of hiring you."

Now Stephanie was furious, "My father?"

"Yes."

The young woman sighed, "Mrs. Pucci, I appreciate the fact that you're seeking my intelligence on a situation like this, but I have to tell you with the utmost honesty that my father and I are not on the greatest of terms. And in regards to Mr. Chance, I have nothing more to do with him. So if you wish to hire me, then I accept, but I will not be put in the same league as them."

"Excellent, just the answer I was looking for," Ilsa smiled, "you're very confident in your skill, Miss Guerrero, I admire that."

"Please, call me Stephanie. I prefer it."

"Very well, Stephanie, shall we go?"

The young woman nodded, opening the door and letting Ilsa walk out before following her stead, down the elevator, and out of the building to a large, presumably armored, Cadillac Escalade, and it wasn't until then, that she noticed who was standing outside of it.

"Miss Stephanie?" Ilsa called over her shoulder, wondering why the young woman had stopped cold.

Stephanie straightened, "Yes, Mrs. Pucci," and without another glance at the three men standing there, she followed her new employer into the back seat of the leading Escalade.

* * *

San Fransisco in March, probably one of the better times of the year weather-wise; and yet even after six months in Miami, Guerrero had missed the spur-of-the-moment winds that blew through the streets every now and then. He'd grown tired of the blistering heat, sun showers, and the occasional hurricane. The only problem with being back in San Fran, was the fact that the one person he was about to see, probably didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. She'd told him to rot in Hell, something he knew no child should ever say to a parent and mean it, but he also knew he just had to suck it up and get through whatever was coming.

"She's not gonna be happy to see us, dude."

Chance sighed, "It's been six months, she honestly held everything against us for that long?"

_You don't know the half of it_, Guerrero thought to himself as he watched Ilsa exit the building, Stephanie behind her, and he was shocked to see how much she'd changed in six months. Her hair was no longer wavy, but straight and shoulder-length, and she'd gotten full-front bangs, plus she'd dyed it so it was a lighter blonde. She looked like a completely different person, which he guessed was the point. He braced himself as they walked towards the car, his gaze automatically falling on his daughter, whom he noticed was donning a gun and a badge.

"Miss Stephanie?" Ilsa questioned, looking back at the young woman, who was now staring at him.

Guerrero stuffed his hands in his pockets, _Say something, c'mon_.

Stephanie's back straightened, "Yes, Mrs. Pucci," and without so much as a hello, she got into the other Cadillac with their boss.

A few moments of silence passed before Winston said anything, "I think that went rather well, don't you?"

Guerrero scoffed, "It's gonna be a disaster."

Chance sighed, "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

Winston flashed his partner a chesher-cat grin, "Well actually, I like the new her," he chuckled before getting in their Escalade.

The bodyguard stood there briefly, processing what had just occurred, before turning to his friend, "Well, Winston likes the "new" Stephanie. I for one, do not."

Guerrero said nothing, merely glaring at the opposite truck sadly.

Chance glanced at him, "You OK?"

"Yeah," the short-statured man stated flatly, starting the car, "and for the record, dude, I don't like the "new" her, either."


End file.
